


Is it true I bear the mark of Cain?

by Patron-Saint (freddieseyeliner)



Series: Blood from Hell in my veins [1]
Category: My Chemical Romance
Genre: Alternate Universe - Vampire, Guilt, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, M/M, Religious Imagery & Symbolism, Vampire Gerard Way, Vampires, bff ray toro and frank iero, frank likes to smoke pot, look I'm a hoe for three things: found family trope- vampires- and unemployed punks with tattoos, mikey likes to stir the pot, this fic has all three, yes this is based on the misfits song thnx for asking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-09
Updated: 2020-06-24
Packaged: 2021-03-03 19:01:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 25,341
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24620518
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/freddieseyeliner/pseuds/Patron-Saint
Summary: "You think if I went to church more, God would hate me less?" Frank ran his thumb over the crucifix hanging from his necklace as he held the phone to his ear."No, but I think if you had less anal sex, God would like you more."
Relationships: Frank Iero/Gerard Way
Series: Blood from Hell in my veins [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1780069
Comments: 58
Kudos: 143





	1. Guilt tripping and other summer fun ideas

**Author's Note:**

> First fic in this fandom. I'm trying but dear fucking god am I projecting onto all of them. Heavily.

Through his haze he could hear Sweet Pea's concerned whines. His head stung like a hundred bees were flying around inside it. Gravity pulled at his ribs and something deeply unsettling nudged his conscious mind.

Then fuck. Right. It started coming back to him in waves.

__________________

"You think if I went to church more, God would hate me less?" Frank ran his thumb over the crucifix hanging from his necklace as he held the phone to his ear.

"No, but I think if you had less anal sex, God would like you more." Despite himself, he laughed.

A thick silence crackled over the line before Ray continued.

"Seriously though man, things haven't been great for you lately. Sweet Pea getting sick, the shop closing, and now your Grandma. Are you sure you want to go alone?"

"I'll be fine; I used to go there as a kid all the time. Plus it might be nice, you know, packing up all her stuff. Cathartic or whatever. Besides, you need to finish up, well..."

"Yeah."

Truth be told there were few things that ranked higher on Frank's list of Oh God Please Don't Make Me Do That, Why Do You Hate Me So Much than sorting through his dead Grandma's house, alone, in the middle of a swath of forest that made the Blair Witch Project seem quaint. But New Jersey's last independent record store was closing; subsequently leaving New Jersey's worst record store employees without jobs. Him and Ray were supposed to finish out the week lugging boxes and taking down shelving when Frank got the call about his Grandma. As much as he wanted his best friend with him he knew Ray needed the money from the last week of work. Hell, he needed the money too but didn't have much of an option. Flesh and blood and all.

"Well I'll come check on you at some point. Make sure you haven't had your blood sucked."

"Haha very funny. You know those are all stories anyways. No one's actually seen a real vampire in like 30 years. That's basically forever."

"Let's hope for your sake that's not true. It would be the most action you got in-"

"I'm hanging up now asshole."

"You love me."

"Whatever."

"Honestly, call me if you need anything. And I'm sorry. Your Grandma was a cool old lady."

Car loaded up with a thermos of coffee, Sweet Pea, a duffel bag of warm clothes and four packs of cigarettes he started his journey.

His heart ached as he watched the trembling dog in the front seat. She was the runt of her litter and couldn't find a home. She was dumped in an ally by the breeder and lived under a dumpster until Frank found her. Two weeks ago the vet told him she had cancer. Poor little thing never really had a chance. Frank didn't even know dogs could get cancer. She was doing her best though- still running around and licking Frank's face. It was probably a good thing Frank brought her. The fresh air would be nice for her. And despite not believing in them, not really anyways, it was always best to take every precaution available against vampires.

The last verified sighting happened 30 years ago in 1974. Vampires, for the most part, left everyone the hell alone. And they left the vampires alone. They were hard to find and almost impossible to tell apart from a human. The only thing to give them away was their cold skin; if you were close enough to feel it it was too late anyways. Dogs on the other hand had an innate ability to tell the two apart. Growling and barking at any creature of the night. Frank glanced over at Sweet Pea and couldn’t imagine her putting up a fuss. Oh well. Vampires were extinct. Probably.

As his car thumped and kicked down the freeway, buildings became shorter and more spaced out, eventually giving way to trees and thorn bushes. A fuzzy mist snaked around the underbrush like a spider's web and Frank might have thought it beautiful on a different day.

The road turned to gravel, then dirt, then mud. He could feel the sharp jolts of his '93 junker car turn syrupy. Fuck.

He made it another mile before all movement stopped and he was left alone with the sounds of Sweet Pea panting and his Misfits CD.

Getting out of the car he realized it was only a short walk to the solitary house that broke up the woods. The only house for miles and miles. He was the only person for miles and miles.

Examining his tires that had sunk deep into the mud he relented.

"Guess I won't be going anywhere in a hurry." Great. Three minutes in the woods and he was already talking to himself.

Hand on the doorknob of a house much older than himself Frank looked back at the forest. It looked normal. For about 30 seconds. Then the trees seemed to twist and contort into gnarled shapes, dead leaves started to grow eyes and mouths and tangled roots reached out to him like hands. Despite his knit sweater and jeans the unique chill of the forest forgotten by time seeped into his very bones. Every muscle was on a hairpin trigger and goose flesh raised along his body. He felt dizzy with it. An intoxicating thrum of fear edged at his feet and pulled at his mind. He blinked and the trees were just trees again.

This is why he stayed in the city. Plus Frank was fairly certain you couldn't get Chinese delivery out here. He opened the door and closed himself and Sweet Pea inside, or closed the forest outside, if he were being honest with himself.

Yellowing wallpaper with the ancient echoes of a floral design peeked and bobbed around, lost in the sea of crucifixes that encrusted the walls. Frank ran a finger over one that had Mary's face in the middle. Seemed wrong somehow to let her steep in the dirty veil of dust. Transfixed by the sheer number of crosses Frank was half convinced they had cast a spell over him. Wormed their way into his brain and pushed themselves out of his eye sockets. He started seeing them carved into the baseboards. Burned above the stove. Scratched into frames holding out of date photos. It was too much- overwhelming suddenly. He had to get out of there. His feet moved of their own accord until his back connected with a lamp and they both went tumbling to the ground.

_________________________

And here he was. His head throbbed like a bottle of tequila. A tentative hand reached out and he could feel the very real raised edges of a cross carved in the base of the lamp.

He wasn't sure if he was relieved or not that this wasn't a hallucination. He knew his grandma was religious but this. Well this was insane.

His eyes wandered to the darkening forest as he propped himself back up.

He spent the next two hours prying crosses off the wall with a crowbar and throwing them into a cardboard box in the corner of the room. If only the nuns from school could see him now. One solitary cross remained unmoved. Mary's tear stained face watching his every action.

If he was ever going to be able to sell the house it needed to look distinctly less like a set from a horror movie.

The house had been built in 1912 but the majority of it had been torn down to rebuild sometime in the 70s. All that remained of the original was the guest room Frank always slept in as a child when he came to visit.

He put away the sparse groceries he'd brought with him and saw unmarked metal cans stacked in the bottom cupboard. A shiver ran up his spine. They'd been there, untouched, since he was a kid. He wondered if the metallic red filling had congealed or turned to dust over time. His grandma always thought it best to have an olive branch to reach out.

She was lucky- all things considered. Living alone in the woods apparently infested with vampires and dying at the ripe old age of 87 by natural causes. He supposed the rest of his family was too- they’d all done well for themselves. But not him. Misery stuck to him like a slick sweat in the humid Jersey summer. It clogged his throat and crusted over his eyes. Worst of all he didn't even know what he'd done to deserve it. Sure, he wasn't a saint by any stretch of the word but he wasn't a dick. It wasn't his fault he finished university at the same time an economic collapse ravaged the cities. Nowhere decent was hiring. Thankfully, with his drinking habit and suitcases full of self guilt, he wasn't decent. He'd been working at the record shop for two years now with Ray. It wasn't all bad. They goofed off a lot and Ray didn't tell their manger when he went 'round back and smoked pot. He would miss seeing Ray's smiling face everyday. He would miss his shitty two bus commute. He'd miss skimming change off the tip jar to go buy a coffee from the cute barista across the street on breaks. It wasn't fair. He didn't fucking deserve it. What he was quite sure he did deserve, however, was the expansive display of alcohol arranged neatly behind crystal glasses and tall spoons. Thank you Grandma Iero.

He unscrewed the top of a bottle filled with something clear and amber. It smelled like a blackout; might as well have had a sign that said ‘drink me’ on it. 

After twenty minutes he had the antiquated speaker system working and music blasting through the creepy house. The bass line rattled the china cabinet and he lit a cigarette. Maybe it wouldn’t be too bad here. 

Alcohol addled confidence made him open the sitting room window. 

“Hope you like Dead Kennedeys you blood sucking freaks!” 

No one answered. He felt an odd pang of disappointment. Frank went back to the ‘drink me’ bottle. 

Normally when he went to bed drunk he slept like the dead. But not tonight.

He kept jolting awake feeling a hundred sets of eyes on him. The fourth time he woke up he wanted to scoop his brain out and wash it down the sink. The wave before the storm hit as nausea snaked up his throat. He ran to the bathroom and vomited. What a waste of alcohol. Now he was going to have to sleep sober. Like this night didn’t already blow. He couldn't wait to be done packing up this shit and go home to his crappy apartment.

As he stepped into the guest room the feeling of eyes boring into him amplified. He wanted to hide inside his skin or sink down into the earth. He felt like a kid but he could swear the darkness was moving around him. He could’ve sworn it licked him with something sickly and hot. His heart beat faster and with a shaking hand he switched on the light.

Somewhere in the back of his mind he remembered pestering a nun, Sister Agnes, as a kid with questions about Hell. What was it like? What did they do to people there? What did demons look like? She had told him to be quiet. She had said some things were best left unknown. He really wished he hadn’t turned the light on.

It was human shaped but inside out. Slick red insides shone in the delicate overhead light. At first he thought it didn’t have eyes but then he saw them in soft, fleshy craters embedded in the creature's hands and extending up its arms; Frank tried to count them but froze as they all turned in his direction. It walked on all fours, contorted grotesquely, with its spine to the floor. He thought about Sweet Pea asleep in the sitting room in front of the fireplace. He hoped she stayed there. 

His feet were rooted to the floor and his chest couldn’t keep up with his barreling heart. Maybe it would explode. Maybe that was a better way to go than whatever this  _ thing  _ was going to do to him. Its movements were slow and sloppy as it dragged itself over to Frank. Long nails scratched the floor. A  _ crack  _ rang over the room like a jet liner; the creature had spun its head around to face Frank instead of the ceiling and  _ oh fuck.  _ A broken jaw dragged along the floor and a tangle of intestines and guts poked out from what Frank assumed at some point must have been its lips. 

In Sister Agnes’ voice it told Frank to be quiet as its teeth dug into the flesh of his hip and its nails sunk into his thighs.

Frank woke up with sheets twisted around his legs and sweat dripping down his face. It was just a dream. The red numbers on the alarm clock blared at him like a sleazy neon sign. The feeling of relief made him lightheaded. He almost giggled. Maybe it was time to stop watching so many horror movies. 

Something wet splattered his forehead. 

His eyes flicked up before he could stop them. The slack jawed monster clung to the ceiling above his bed. All of its eyes blinked as blood dripped from its mouth. 

Frank screamed.

He woke up on the floor curled into a ball and ran to the light switch. No monsters. He caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror. Dark circles, dry skin, wild hair, a red bloody face behind him.

The cycle of nightmares continued for the rest of the night.

By the time he pried open his crusted over eyes it was only 8am but he couldn't face another dream so he, his headache and Sweet Pea filed downstairs. He pretended not to see the scratches on the floor. They were definitely there before last night. Probably. 

He looked out the window. Overcast. Of course.

Sweet Pea whined at the door and he let her out to run around. He sighed as he watched her wiggle out the door. She’d lost more weight.

His mouth felt pasted shut like someone had filled it full of cement and let it dry overnight. He eyed the faucet as a dream from last night rushed back and shivered as he remembered the maggots pouring into the sink. Coffee it was. Who needed water anyways? 

He switched on the ancient machine and trudged back upstairs to the bathroom. He looked like shit. His lips were dry and pale, looking stark against his lip rings, his cuticles were bleeding, dark circles would’ve been a complement for the mess under his eyes and his previously sweat soaked hair had stiffened and dried at odd angles. The clothes he passed out in last night were rumpled and damp. He noticed a bit of vomit on his shirt. Fuck. Fine he’d shower- but he wasn’t going to like it.

Despite his resolution to be miserable the hot water felt nice on his sore body and dampened the pounding in his head. By the time he got out and brushed his teeth he felt almost human; colour had returned to his cheeks and lips and he’d managed to get all the grime and goo out of his eyes. He even drank a few mouthfuls of water from the shower head. The image of perfect health he decided as he lit up a cigarette after pulling on clean black jeans, an old t-shirt from an ex girlfriend and a ratty knit sweater.

Guilt edged at his mind as he sipped his coffee from a ridiculous china teacup and texted Ray. He had promised to do it when he got here last night. But then he got busy. Being drunk. And screaming Dead Kennedy songs to imaginary vampires in the forest. God, he needed some hobbies; he was definitely going to take guitar back up when he got home. Or get a girlfriend. Or a boyfriend. Anything to make his evenings slightly less pathetic. 

He shifted slightly on the floor as he called for Sweet Pea. There was no point sitting anywhere else until he started cleaning. Everything was coated in dust- the type that's greasy and tacky and clings to everything and won't quite ever come off. He tapped his foot impatiently when it hit him. He never let her back in the house.

Terror worse than any of his nightmares raced through him as he ran out the front door yelling her name.  _ Fuck. Fuck! _

45 minutes later he collapsed on the porch. No Sweet Pea to be seen. What a shitty fucking person he was letting his dog with cancer get lost in the fucking vampire woods even though vampires probably aren't fucking real. He picked up a rock and threw it as hard as he could into the trees.

“Ow!”

Standing at the edge of the porch with a hand up to his forehead where the rock had assumedly hit him and mouth agape like a 1920’s silent film actress was a man who looked distinctly out of place. He had a gamine face and black hair tucked behind his ears, a few pieces of loose fringe above his eyes, black skinny jeans, converse, a grey denim jacket with beautiful painted pictures up the sleeves of supernaturally hued flames and he could swear the dude was wearing mascara. But none of that really mattered because he was holding Sweet Pea. The dog happily lapped at the guy’s face and wagged her tail enthusiastically.

“Oh my God! You found her! Fuck, thank you so much.” Frank shivered as his hand brushed against the guy’s as he picked up Pea from him. Their arms were momentarily tangled together as the dog tried to stay in the other guy’s arms. Traitor. Another pang of guilt swept through Frank as his cross necklace scraped against the guy’s wrist and he flinched.

“Come on.” He gestured to the porch and a wide smile broke across the guy’s face. There was something a bit off about it.

“I’m Gerard. You seriously must be the only other person living in the woods." An incredulous laugh escaped his mouth. "I haven’t seen the dog before though?” 

“Oh, I’m just here for a bit. This was my grandma’s house. I’m cleaning it out so we can sell it I guess. Frank, by the way.” He extended his hand but Gerard never took it. A bit freaky but whatever. You had to be a bit of a freakshow to willingly live in this forest. 

“Sorry to hear she passed.” He looked down at his shoes with his brows drawn together. The guy looked genuinely upset.

“Thanks, it’s fine, she went peacefully and all that. The house is kind of creepy though.”

Gerard let his eyes fall on the peeling white paint and crooked shutters.

“I kinda like it.”

“Yeah, creepy can be cool I guess.”

His eyes lit up at that. “You think so?”

“Yeah, sure. I mean like The Misfits can be creepy but they’re cool.”

“No way! I love them!”

“I have their CD and some coffee. I should probably thank you after throwing a rock at you and you saving Sweet Pea and all that.” They both laughed and something odd and electric passed through the air. “Did you want to c-” 

It hit Frank then- what was off about Gerard’s smile. His teeth were small and even, perfectly spaced- except two. His canines were slender and sharper than the rest of his teeth. 

Normally he would dismiss it. But cold hands, pointy teeth, appearing out of fucking nowhere in the woods with no car to be seen, his grimace when he passed Sweet Pea over and his hand brushed over Frank's crucifix necklace. 

The threshold of the house suddenly seems too far away to Frank. 

Two sets of hazel eyes bore into each other. Frank knew. And Gerard knew Frank knew. For once something went right in Frank’s life as the sky overhead began to lighten with orange and yellow. A break in the clouds.

“I’d, uh, better go.” He looked sad in a way Frank had never seen before. A deep seated sadness that permeated everything around him and hung in the air- almost tangible. Before Frank could answer he’d started back into the trees.

Guilt clung to Frank like a widow to melancholy. He couldn’t put into words exactly why he felt bad but that look in Gerard’s eyes had everything to do with it.

His body seemed to catch up to the situation before his mind did and he scrambled back into the house with Sweet Pea at his feet. Some fucking vampire detector she was.

As Gerard retreated Frank saw the painting on the back of his jacket and almost passed out. The same image of Mary on the cross that Frank had left up was engulfed in flames. Her peaceful face seemed to hold some sort of power as her own destruction raged on around her. It was haunting. 

As Mary’s painted face disappeared into the trees the gravity of the situation hit Frank. A vampire knew where he lived, his car wasn’t going anywhere fast, nevermind the fact he’d have to venture into the forest to retrieve it and no one but Ray knew he was here. Outside the house vampires stalked the woods and inside gory monsters clutched at his mind. Nowhere was safe and he was fucking stuck here. 

Breathing became difficult and his knees stopped supporting him. He let himself slide to the floor as massive sobs wracked his body and ringing filled his ears. He shoved his hands over them trying to make it shut up.

Frank wasn’t sure how long he laid like that but by the time he regained control of himself his legs had cramped. Sweet Pea sat next to him nuzzling his shoulder. He patted her absentmindedly. 

“Good girl.” His voice sounded wrecked and croaky. He reached for a cigarette as she wagged her tail.

It had been a long time since he had a panic attack that bad.

He thought about texting Ray but decided against it. He was stressed enough having to close down the store by himself. He didn’t need Frank’s shit on top of that.

Frank resorted to his tried and true method of problem solving- ignoring it until it either went away or ultimately destroyed his life. Either option didn’t bother him that much. It’s not like things were going great anyways.

He cranked the stereo and started packing. Whenever Pea needed to go out he clipped her leash on and waited for a break in the clouds. When he was pretty sure he would die of boredom if he had to pack up another set of china he let his mind wander.

He started thinking about how normal Gerard looked. How nice. How pretty. Wait- fuck. He groaned. Of course his fucked up mind gave him a crush on a probable vampire that theoretically wanted to suck his blood. He decided to cut himself some slack. It had been a while since he had gotten any action so his mind, and body, were desperate for anything. At least that’s what he told himself. Even if Gerard was human it’s not like he was Frank’s type anyways. He didn’t usually go for the art school dropout look. 

As evening set in so did Frank’s supernatural ability to procrastinate. Apparently not even the fear of an undead creature ripping out his neck was enough to make him meet a deadline. He convinced himself he’d gotten enough done for the day and cracked open a beer from the fridge he’d brought with him. 

While he was sifting through knick knacks he’d found an old photo album. He settled on the couch with his drink and Sweet Pea at his feet and started to flip through it.

A little girl smiled up at him. Black and white photos morphed into colour and wrinkles formed around the woman’s bright eyes. Eventually the man, constantly at her side, stopped appearing in photos and her face looked sadder- almost desolate. Seeing his grandma’s whole life laid out before him tugged at his chest. 

A whole person- with a life and a heart and passions and ideas- gone. It seemed wrong all of a sudden that these photos were trying to be her. They didn’t have her laugh or her soft hands or the way she always used to smile before a good cup of coffee. She always used to say her little Frankie made the best coffee in the entire world; he was so proud, at nine years old, pouring a coffee for his grandma. It wasn’t until he was older he realized she was just being nice. He didn’t understand how all that could just be gone. All her energy and soul stuffed into little pieces of paper. He wanted to throw them out suddenly but somewhere in his rational mind he knew he’d regret it later. He settled for slamming the book shut and downing his beer.

Another beer fizzed open. He thought of the stories she would tell him. Of fairies. Of goblins. Of vampires.

She never thought they were evil; said they were lost souls waiting for someone to reach out a hand. She told him how they were cold, how crucifixes burned them, how the sun turned their skin red and painful, how they needed permission to enter a house. He was quite sure that’s what gave him his fear of answering the door. Even the pizza delivery man knew to knock and leave the pizza on the floor. She also told him how his room was part of the old house. How it was safe no matter what; if anything happened, she told him, run to your room and don’t let anyone in. The only reason, she said, that vampires hurt people is because they are creatures of the night. Susceptible to Satan’s will. They could be possessed by demons and wreak havoc on the living. It was rare though. A vampire attack hadn’t been recorded since the 1930’s. Not that it comforted him; most people who saw a vampire attack didn’t exactly live to tell about it.

He used to think it was just superstition. He knew vampires existed but thought, along with most other people, that they had died out long ago. They were too overrun with their own guilt to kill a race they used to be a part of. The evil ones, the possessed ones, they hunted their prey. But people began to move away from the forests- to cities and towns. Without their food source few survived. 

Frank decided then Gerard wasn’t possessed. The sadness in his eyes was too real- too human. That didn’t stop him from jumping as a branch scratched at the window. Or flinching when the moans of the wind started to sound a bit too much like his name. He got another beer.

A sense of dread followed him around dutifully, like a servant to a master (although Frank wasn’t sure which he was), as he tugged on his pajamas and brushed his teeth. He ventured cautiously downstairs to turn off the lights.

Growing up with a belief in the supernatural hanging in the air gave you a certain sense of calm. Odd noises and strange shuffling? Could be a monster- sure. But it had been studied and proved over and over again- most of the time it wasn’t. But as the hall lights flickered off and a shadow fell across the foyer floor a million years of evolution told Frank something was wrong. Trees didn’t move like that, didn’t have curves in their arms reminiscent of a violin or teeth like Juliet's dagger. 

He wanted it to be silly. To be something he could laugh off with Ray later. But then it knocked. The shadow on the other side of the door knocked. 

Maybe it was the wind.

Maybe it was Gerard.

Sweet Pea pranced to the door and started wagging her tail and barked happily. Dread curled in Frank’s stomach as he remembered her reaction to Gerard before.

An icy feeling spilt over his head and he was pretty sure he was going to die.

He reminded himself Gerard couldn’t come in unless Frank invited him. Nothing to lose by opening the door and looking. Just checking. He wouldn’t be able to sleep tonight otherwise and he was fucking tired from his marathon of night terrors the previous evening.

His hand paused on the doorknob; he supposed it was like ripping off a band-aid. 

_ Creaaaaaaakkkkkkkkk. _

Nothing. Just darkness and humid air and moths.

At first.

Slowly the darkness and shadows on the porch morphed and pinched and twisted into something human (he hoped) and Frank realized he’d been staring at Gerard this whole time.

A pale face blinked at him.

“I didn’t think you’d answer.”


	2. She’s the prettiest girl in the morgue and she can prove it with a kitchen knife

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I could've saved myself 4k words and just said two sad, lonely, fuckers try to make friends. But they're both bitches about it.

“You didn’t think I’d answer the door of my house? That you knocked on?” Frank wasn’t sure why he felt the need to backchat a vampire that had his address. Some people had natural survival instincts- maybe he had the opposite.

“Um, no.” 

How the fuck was an undead creature looking at him _bashfully?_

“Why are you here? You’re freaking out my dog.” He managed to keep his voice steady as his heart thrummed. He wondered if Gerard could smell his blood. Sweet Pea, the absolute traitor, was wagging her tail behind him.

“She looks pretty happy to me.” Half a smile played on Gerard’s face.

“Oh, fuck off.”

“Look I heard you screaming some Dead Kennedys' lyrics the other night.”

“You’re here because of my singing?”

“Well I mean it was screaming. At best.”

“It was too singing!” If he was going to die, Frank decided, he was going to be a bitch about it. 

“Fuck, okay, whatever, you just don’t hear a lot of shit around here and I missed it.”

“Missed what?”

“Humanity.”

“Oh.” It was back. That desperate melancholy that seeped from Gerard and clotted up Frank’s throat.

“I’m sorry if I freaked you out earlier, I just forget is all. I’m still new.” His tongue danced along his perfect teeth and caught on the sharp canines. Frank inhaled. He wanted to offer the guy a cigarette to get him to stop moving his tongue around like that.

“New at......?” He prayed Gerard wouldn’t say what they both know he was.

“Promise me you won’t freak out?”

“Kinda already freaked out.” 

Gerard looked pouty. “You're not helping.”

Frank thought about how objectively fucked up his life was as a vampire pouted on his porch because Frank had bad manners. 

“So uh, you're a vampire then?” Shadows like spider’s legs fell across Gerard’s face as he blinked.

“Yeah.” His voice was quiet. Frank felt that feeling that could only come from pure desolation or a Smashing Pumpkins album. It's not like Gerard ever asked for any of this. He was just living his life and BAM. Vampire. 

Sadness twisted around the two of them like a long forgotten dance. Frank felt at home in it. Gerard shifted uncomfortably in it’s embrace; he was tired of being sad all the time. Of making other people sad- or scared. He thought of Frank’s smile when he’d turned up with his dog. That’s what he wanted. Happiness. Just a sliver- he wasn’t greedy or anything. Didn’t expect the universe to stop hating him now.

“Your lip piercings,” Frank shifted under the other man’s intense gaze, “they’re pretty.”

“Pretty?” He’d gotten a lot of shit in his life for the two small silver hoops in his bottom lip, one on each side of his mouth. He’d been told they were trashy, that they made him look like a dropout (he wasn’t), that they made him look like a burnout (he was), he was even told hot on some occasions. But never pretty.

A pale hand reached up and fingers brushed against Frank’s lip. “Yeah, pretty. Pretty like a Smiths’ song, you know?” He felt like a bucket of cold water had been poured over him.

Frank wasn’t inside anymore. 

Something about Gerard’s voice, about his laugh, about his honest eyes drew Frank past the threshold. Something made him want to get closer to Gerard and he couldn’t explain what it was.

Maybe it was how fast Gerard moved, or the fact Frank had stepped out onto the porch without realizing it, or the chill of distinctly vampiric flesh, or maybe it was the fact Frank could’ve sworn he saw something almost human moving in the night beyond the two of them. He recoiled back like he’d been burned and reached blindly for the door.

“Wait I-”

“Get the fuck away from me!” Frank didn’t stay downstairs to see if the shadow would leave. 

He ran up to his bedroom, somehow feeling safer in the oldest part of the house, and sat on his bed. He wondered if vampires had mind control or if he was just an idiot.

He stared at the wall for a long time before sleep overcame him.

The creature from last night was back. Stalking him down the halls of the house before sinking its teeth into his arm. It shook him around like Sweet Pea did to a toy when she was playing. He could hear the squelch and rip of muscles and tendons as his arm was ripped from the socket.

He dragged himself into the bathroom and slouched down in the empty tub. What was wrong with him? Weird fucking night terrors. Standing on the porch talking to a vampire. The fact he wanted Gerard to touch his lips again.

He powered on his Ipod and played the Smiths.

He was tired of seeing his face in the mirror. He didn’t even know who that fucker was. Not really. University had been fun. He’d played in a band, just managed to pass his classes and found out how fast time goes by when you’re blackout drunk for most of it. He took the only job he could get and spent his time waiting for the day to end. Every morning he laid in bed and fast forwarded through his day in his mind- only smiling when he got to the part where he was in bed again. He didn’t have a five year plan. Hell, he didn’t even know if he wanted to make it five more years.

It clicked then- what made him trust Gerard.

They both had the same sad eyes.

Fuck, the Smiths were making him poetic. Gross. He kept his earbuds in and rested his cheek against the cool porcelain. When he woke up he had a crick in his neck and a missed call from Ray.

Frank chatting absentmindedly with Ray about whatever bullshit came to them as he made coffee and started organizing boxes. It was nice not to think about humanoid flesh monsters and pretty vampires for a bit. As the call wound up Ray’s voice grew serious.

“You sound rough Frank.”

“Gee thanks- think it has anything to do with my dead grandma or dying dog? Wait no, maybe it’s the whole being unemployed thing?” He hadn’t meant to snap at Ray and immediately felt bad.

“I’ve known you for a while and I know what you sound like when things are bad. Just don’t let it get worse before you decide to call again.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I know.”

“I didn’t mean to-”

“I know.” 

“I just-”

“It’s not my job to make you feel like a less shitty friend Frank.” In two years Frank had never heard Ray talk like that. He’d never heard a cruel word or ill intent from him before. He wanted to be mad but he couldn’t be. Everyone always expected Ray to be this happy go lucky dude who was always smiling. They never looked past that; never tried to find out who he really was. He had problems too. No money, no job, living at home helping his mum raise three daughters. 

“I haven’t ever really been there for you, have I?”

“You’ve never been there for yourself Frank. I wouldn’t expect you to be for someone else.” The words were cutting but Ray spoke them softly.

“Things are kind of fucked up, huh?” Frank wasn’t sure if he was talking more to himself or Ray.

Ray laughed and it was almost warm.

“I’ll see you soon. And Ray?”

“Yeah?”

“Thank you.”

“You’re my best friend. You’re worth any shit that comes with that.” 

Frank smiled and they ended the call.

An unnamed emotion that had been broiling in Frank’s mind finally snuffed itself out. Ray was there for him. He was there for Ray. No matter what. He eyed the woods; well, he hoped no matter what.

_____________________

Today was the first day of real progress. Walls of boxes created a maze through the bottom floor of the house. Kitchy china and old sweaters were safely packed in newspaper and cardboard. The house looked stripped to the bones; only furniture remaining. He wondered if all corpses looked this anonymous. 

He figured he had a day of work left and then he could get the hell out of this creepy place. Only the attic remained. Frank had vague memories of it as a child but couldn’t picture it properly. He couldn’t imagine it would take too long as the majority of things were probably already in boxes.

In the hall closet he found the only thing he really wanted to keep. His grandfather’s old guitar. His grandma had painted dark red roses on it after he passed. She said they were just like the ones he gave her on their first date.

After thoroughly checking the porch and deciding it was vampire free Frank sat down on the steps and played a melody he remembered from years ago. His first girlfriend, Jamia, had taught it to him. He wondered how she was doing. Last he heard she had a girlfriend called Lindsey and they were driving across the country together; staying in seedy motels and getting speeding tickets. It sounded nice.

The air cooled and night rose in the sky. He should go inside. 

Frank kept playing.

His unpracticed fingers pressed harshly on the thinnest string. A pleasant snake of pain worked through his hand so he did it again. Something sticky and wet slicked up the fretboard and Frank realized he was bleeding. Now he should really go inside.

He wondered if Gerard slept? If he wished away his days? What made him feel alive? Did anything? _Could_ anything?

Frank set down the guitar and examined his fingers. The cut was thin. He pulled and prodded at it until a small but steady stream of blood fell from it. 

Was Gerard lonely too?

He thought of Ray and decided he should go back inside, bandage up his hand and maybe consider some therapy when he got back into the city. 

“What the genuine fuck are you doing?” The voice made Frank jump. 

He wasn’t sure what he expected when he purposely cut his hand open. In the middle of a supernatural forest. At night. Somehow a vampire wasn’t on that list.

Gerard stood with his hand on his hips like an exasperated school teacher. It should’ve been a ridiculous sight. It wasn’t funny. It was dangerous. 

“I guess I’m out of practice.” Frank volunteered while eying the guitar. He wasn’t sure he could look at Gerard without being drawn closer to him. That seemed like a monumentally bad idea right now. Even for Frank.

Gerard walked up onto the porch and stared at the forest with Frank. 

“Shouldn’t you go inside now?”

“I don’t know. Anything out here gonna hurt me?”

Him and Gerard were both standing now. Leaning against the railing and watching the night. They were only a couple inches apart. Frank could hear the gentle patter of blood running down his hand and hitting the porch.

“I won’t.”

“Why not?” It was a challenge and Frank knew it. It seemed better to go out this way than drinking himself to death by 27. 

“Fuck! Frank, I-” Gerard dug the heels of his hands into his eyes and groaned. “Maybe I just want a friend? Did you consider that? That the woods are fucking lonely. Do you think about anything other than yourself?” Fear flashed through Frank. It was the first time Gerard _really_ looked it- a vampire. His lips had raised in a snarl with fangs on full display, his skin looked like tissue paper in the moonlight and his eyes burned with something that could have only come from the depths of Hell. Frank was sure then that he’d killed people before, that he’d stalked and menaced innocents. 

But he was also sure Gerard felt guilt. 

Here Frank was, bleeding openly before him, and Gerard hadn’t made a single move. Maybe his blood was sour. Rotten with his ill thoughts and suicidal daydreams. Or maybe Gerard just wanted a friend. Maybe.

He thought back to his earlier conversation with Ray. 

“Wait here.” 

“It’s not like I really have a choice.” Moths played around Gerard’s head as the porch light reflected off their powdery wings. It looked like a grotesque sort of halo.

Frank silently prayed that the whole needing permission to enter thing was true. He bandaged up his hand and grabbed supplies while wearily checking the foyer. 

A friend. He could do that.

Gerard’s mouth fell into an O as he opened the door; like he didn’t expect Frank to come back.

“I never thanked you.”

“What?”

“You saved Sweet Pea. Also I threw a rock at you.”

“Okay?”

Frank set down the armful of blankets and two mugs of coffee. He sat on the house side of the threshold. 

“Sit down on the porch side.”

They sat, facing one another, and stared for a long minute. 

Frank nudged a blanket over to him and took a sip of his own coffee. Did vampires need blankets? Probably not. God this was so fucking stupid. _He_ was so stupid. 

“Shit, can you even drink coffee?”

Gerards eyes lit up as he plucked the mug from the floor.

“Fuck. Yes.” He made a face that was probably single handedly responsible for the stereotype of the seductive vampire. 

He pulled a blanket around himself and smiled. 

Frank smiled back.

“So you can, like, eat then?” Frank wasn’t sure if it was impolite to ask questions like that. But he figured cutting yourself open and bleeding in front of a vampire so they would come talk to you _definitely_ was so he couldn’t really do anything worse.

“I can eat and drink whatever I want. It just doesn’t satisfy me. I’m starving after eating a whole meal. There isn’t really a point.” He paused, then said very gravely, “except coffee. There’s always a point to coffee.” Frank couldn’t help but laugh. This was crazy.

“What about a rare steak?”

“I hate you.”

“You love me! I made you coffee! That would be unethical anyways; I'm a vegetarian.” 

“Of course you are. You drive a Subaru and have a faux hawk. I'm dead, not stupid.”

And they both laughed and the moon seemed a little brighter.

He couldn’t picture Gerard killing anymore. He could barely recall what the snarl on his face looked like. He couldn’t picture his delicate features contorted that way.

“What did you mean on the porch?” Frank was feeling oddly bold as he looked into Gerard’s eyes.

“Hmm?”

“You said, pretty like a Smiths’ song. What does that even mean?”

“Oh,” he paused and then coughed, looking a little awkward, “pretty in way where you feel dead.”

Frank cleared his throat to stop himself from mentioning Gerard _was_ dead.

“You ever feel dead Frank?” His eyes were searching and wide and Frank felt compelled to tell him the truth.

He thought back to his reflection in the mirror, back to all the bottles he kept under his bed in his apartment because he was too lazy to bring them to a recycling depot, to the day in day out haze of his life.

“Yeah.”

“Don’t worry,” a small smile blossomed on Gerard’s face, “it’s not all bad.”

A warm silence buzzed on the porch as the smile on Gerard’s face grew. The ghost of a memory passing through. 

“What?” Frank wanted to know what made Gerard smile like that. What could lift sadness that heavy?

“My mum, she was a mortician. Put makeup on dead people before their funerals. Pretty in a dead way.” He gestured vaguely with his hand and smiled again.

“Explains that I guess.” Frank ran his thumb over Gerard’s lashes. Definitely wearing mascara.

“Hey! I touch you and you spazz out but you’re allowed to ruin my makeup?”

“In my defense you feel like an icebox.” A sexy icebox, Frank’s mind supplied. _What the fuck was wrong with him?_ A sexy icebox? God, he needed to get some.

“I always thought it was cool she spent her day dressing up corpses.”

“You were a macabre little fucker weren’t you?” Gerard laughed. “Are you sure you didn’t will yourself into becoming a vampire?”

He threw a pebble from the porch at Frank. 

“Hey!”

“Payback bitch!”

Eventually the coffee left their cups and the moon started to fade in the sky. It was so easy to talk to Gerard, so natural.

“How’d it happen then?”

Gerard clutched his empty mug.

“I mean you weren’t always like,” Frank gestured to his too pale form hunched over on the porch, “this.”

“It’s not a nice story Frankie.” His voice broke on Frank’s name and made a strange heat rise in his chest. How could anyone hurt Gerard? 

“It’s getting late.” The moon had almost completely faded now like soft blue denim and orange streaks painted the sky- dawn was coming.

“You mean early.”

Gerard grinned. “Whatever.”

They stood with stiff limbs at the threshold of the house, one on either side. Frank felt like he was 14 and waiting to kiss a girl.

“Will I see you again?”

“If you want to?”

“Hell yeah.”

“Not worried about me sucking your blood?”

“Not my blood, no.”

“What?”

Both their faces turned red and Frank really hated himself sometimes.

“I’ll see you tonight then.” 

Gerard smiled back to him as the woods swallowed him up.

__________________

Should he tell Ray? Probably. Was he going to tell Ray? No.

It was one hundred percent definitely not a date. Gerard was lonely. Frank had a soul. They both liked Black Flag. Friends- they were friends.

On the off chance it was literally anything else he couldn’t have someone of sound mind like Ray barging in and ruining it. Say reasonable things like “Vampires can kill you” or “He only likes you for your blood”. No, he didn’t need that at all.

Dawn crackled along the sky as Frank sunk down into flannel sheets. His hand throbbed and it felt nice. A reminder of his night. He wondered if his finger would scar- a keepsake of sorts.

He felt content for the first time in, well, he couldn’t quite remember.

No nightmares came as he slept. 

______ 

Places couldn’t be haunted. Objects had no souls. Your mother’s wedding dress couldn’t cry out in pain. But people- _oh people!_ They felt and bled and begged. They avenged and hurt and burned empires over broken hearts. 

A desolate, sad man owned a desolate sad home. If you were scared of your own mind, well, maybe you’d be scared of your own house too.

______

Frank rolled out of bed in the early afternoon resolving to scope out the attic after a cup of coffee.

And well, fuck.

Instead of the neatly arranged boxes he’d imagined, a swath of loose papers, dust encased trinkets and frighteningly tall towers of books littered the floor. And spiders. Like this couldn’t get any worse.

His mind, uninvited, supplied the silver lining. More time in the house equaled more time with Gerard.

_____

Two nights of long talks and bitching over who got to choose the music later Frank thought he had done the impossible. Made a new friend in his twenties. Maybe he should tell Ray- he’d probably be impressed.

Comic books, movies, music- they talked about normal things. Like they were normal people. Frank found out Gerard went to art school and made fun of him for looking the type. Gerard found out he worked at a record shop and did the same. They swapped stories about family, about parties, about boyfriends and girlfriends, about childhood pets and how the air smelled in their hometowns.

As they spoke they waited. They hung gently on spider's silk waiting for it all to go wrong. Waiting for Gerard's guilt to stop him from returning. Waiting for Frank to get spooked and lock the door. They both had their sneaking suspicions. That if they talked long enough they'd have the time to make each other sad. Gerard was worried the best he'd ever be was whatever Frank had imagined in him. Frank was worried if he set fire to himself he still wouldn't burn bright enough to keep Gerard's attention. But tragic loved tragic. Manic loved manic. And maybe the two of them were just a bit dramatic. Maybe friendship was hard and they'd both forgotten that somewhere along the line while curled up in their own minds. Relearning was hard. They felt unlike themselves; they felt happy.

Frank couldn't help the twinge of sadness he felt whenever the moon began to fade. Gerard pushed it last time; staying until the whole sky was painted in pinks and oranges. 

During the day he worked through the attic at a glacial pace. He felt guilty throwing away any notebooks or stacks of time traced documents without reading them first. He felt he owed that to some cosmic entity. Or maybe he didn’t want to be done packing yet. No matter the reason it was slow going and as the evening drew near Frank couldn’t deny he was excited to see Gerard.

He’d even changed into an almost clean shirt for the occasion. 

He set up their mugs of coffee and leaned against the doorway. Usually Gerard knocked and then he would make his way to the foyer- like he hadn’t been waiting with bated breath. But he was feeling impatient today and dusk seemed to cling to the air longer than usual.

Eventually the sun fell below the tree line and shadows began to run the forest.

A particular shadow, Frank’s favourite shadow, moved oddly as it walked up the steps to the porch. All disjointed and slow. It was like he was moving through syrup and then suddenly, without warning, he was there.

Frank blinked at Gerard.

The porch lights must’ve been playing tricks on Frank’s eyes because Gerard’s face looked otherworldly. Not in a poetic way, not in a beautiful, delicate, nice sort of way. It looked like a window to every horror that walked the earth. It held the fury of a wronged widow, the cruelty of a death row inmate and the insanity of anyone willing to trust a vampire.

Frank stepped out onto the porch and touched Gerard’s face. The expression was a mirage; he was sure of it. 

Arms too strong for their size and too cold for the living pushed him against the side of the house. Gerard’s taller form pinned him in place. A cool nose ran along his neck followed by a tongue.

“I’m hungry Frank.”

The porch lights seemed to dim. Gerard’s eyes didn’t look gamine anymore; they looked thirsty. 

Sometimes a house was just a house. Sometimes a forest was just a forest. 

But sometimes.

Sometimes a house channeled supernatural energy through its walls and haunted its inhabitants with night terrors. Sometimes a forest housed unholy creatures that begged for the opportunity to rip out your throat. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who left a review on the first chapter! I really appreciate the feedback <3
> 
> PS I was thinking of making a playlist for this fic if anyone is interested?
> 
> PSS To anyone who is confused about the house: it's not haunted. The forest is just full of weird shit and freaky energy so if you're living there you're probably going to get night terrors.


	3. Pennyroyal tea with Franz Ferdinand and his wife Sophie

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> MIKEYMIKEYMIKEYMIKEYMIKEYMIKEYMIKEYMIKEYMIKEYMIKEYMIKEY! 
> 
> Bitches be writing sarcastic younger brothers to cope. (It's me, I'm bitches.)

"Am I scaring you?" Cold fingers splayed out over his hip and pushed him flat against the outside of the house. They dipped below his waistband and prodded at his flesh. Gerard's other hand grabbed the front of Frank's sweater, exposing his neck, and he ran his face up Frank's throat. Like a cat marking his territory. Scared wasn't the right word for it. Then Frank saw a flash of teeth. Maybe scared was part of it. A million emotions played through his mind but they all ended in a heavy heat coiled in his stomach.

"What are you doing?" Gerard leaned further into him. As if willing their bodies to become one. Frank could feel bruises forming.

"You smell so good Frankie." He pushed against Frank's hips with his own again and the world seemed to fizz around him. 

"How long has it been since you ate?" Gerard's eyes looked absolutely  _ starved _ .

"A while."

"Why?" Frank was surprised by how steady his voice sounded.

"Nothing to eat around here." His fingers tangled in Frank's hair and he buried his face in it, inhaling deeply.

"Look- my grandma, well I, in the house- fuck." He was unabashedly grinding on Frank and it made forming any string of words fucking hard. "I have blood." Did being hungry have to make vampires so horny? Frank couldn't think of any other reason but mania fueled lust that Gerard would be interested in him.

"I noticed." His eyes flickered to Frank's bandaged hand.

"No I mean like, in cans. In the house. You can have it. If you want?" Frank couldn't imagine it would taste very good; in fact he wasn't sure it hadn't dried up over time. He prayed to an empty sky that they would be edible. As edible as a can of blood could be anyways.

Relief flooded Gerard's eyes and it was nice to see something human in them again. His single minded need to smell Frank seemed to fade and he slouched back against the wall of the house.

He looked small. Fragile almost.

He swayed on his feet and Frank had to put his arm around him to keep him upright.

"I'm sorry, fuck Frank! I'm so fucking sorry. I scared you. I didn't mean to. I didn't even mean to come here tonight. It wouldn't be safe for you." He paused. "It's _not_ safe for you." His eyes bore into Frank's and he could see the guilt there. The honesty.

His cheeks looked hollow and his whole body seemed to curl in on itself. He looked ill. Frank was scared to leave him alone.

Frank had made a lot of dumb decisions in his life. Once he jumped from a second story window to impress his boyfriend at the time. And another time he lit a bottle rocket in his mother's living room. However, he figured this one would probably win him some sort of prize for idiocy.

"Come in."

Panic filled Gerard's eyes. "What do you mean? Wait, fuck, no. Don't explain. You can't invite me in Frank. I'm- what if I-?"

"You won't." Frank had never felt so sure of something in his life. The tides would rise, the sun would set, and Gerard wouldn't hurt him.

"But what if-"

"Look I can't leave you out here like this. There's more than just you out there." He eyed the forest wearily. "It wouldn't be right- you're my friend." He saw a small light in Gerard as he called him a friend. They both glowed feebly as they clutched one another on the ancient porch. "You can come inside the house Gerard."

He paused at the threshold that had divided them for five days. "Are you sure?"

Frank took his hand and tugged him into the foyer.

Sweet Pea barked excitedly and started prancing around Gerard, her tail wagging. Frank was pretty sure  _ she  _ would've invited Gerard in if she could.

With an arm around his waist they shuffled awkwardly to the couch. He watched Gerard's half closed eyes and dazed movements. How could he have let it get this bad? Frank laid him down on the couch. His breath caught in his throat as Gerard's hand reached out and tightened on his leg.

"Don't go Frank. You smell nice; it makes me feel better." Heat blossomed across Frank's face as he considered the implications of that.

Gerard could smell his blood. Gerard thought he had particularly nice smelling blood. And Frank had invited him into his house.

"I'm getting food from the kitchen. You have to-" Gerard's hand dropped and his eyes looked sad. Fucking pouty little vampire.

With hands Frank didn't care to read into the shakiness of he punctured open an ancient tin.

It was darker than he thought it would be.

The rational part of his mind told him this was insane. He should, at best, throw the tin at Gerard and go hide in his bedroom. His hands, white knuckled, clutched the edge of the kitchen counter.  _ What the fuck was he doing? _

Frank still had the guest room at least. The one safe haven left to him. He wondered how fast he could run up the stairs. He wondered how fast Gerard could run up the stairs. Probably faster.

He opened the door to the sitting room and jumped backwards, blood spilling from the tin down his sweater.

Gerard was standing in the doorway facing Frank.

"I could smell it."

"Oh."

Blood dribbled down Frank's fist that held the can and down his arm.

Gerard's own hand wrapped around his and the blood squelched between their intertwined fingers.

Frank's hand, still under Gerard's own, as he brought the tin to his mouth.

His throat moved obscenely as he gulped back the blood. Taking in mouthfuls too large as his lips became slick with it and some fell down his chin.

This was somehow the hottest thing Frank had ever seen. He was definitely going to Hell for thinking that but God was it worth it. Frank decided then Ray was probably right about him being into freaky things.

Gerard seemed punch drunk on it as he took larger and larger sips. Frank led him back to the couch.

With his hand still caught in Gerard's grip he landed awkwardly on top of him. Neither made a move to adjust themselves.

Well, more accurately, Frank didn't make a move to adjust himself. He doubted Gerard was thinking much past the tin in his hand.

For the first time since Frank had met him Gerard felt warm. Although, he supposed that was probably his own body heat sinking into Gerard who was laying back across the armrest, his legs splayed over the cushions. Their stomachs were pressed together and Frank's legs fell between Gerard's own. He hoped Gerard was too out of it to notice the semi he was sporting.

Eventually the can ran dry and Gerard met Frank's eyes.

"Did you want more?"

"No that's, that's probably good." His voice was rough, like he'd been smoking, and his eyes were drifting shut. Frank figured he should probably have another one if he’d been that hungry but what the hell did he know about vampires anyway?

He sounded dazed. He sounded fucked.

Frank supposed almost starving to death could really take it out of you. Which is why, he would later justify, he ended up napping with a vampire. 

_____

It had been a long time since Frank had woken up in someone’s arms. It was nice- really nice. Despite the heat Frank assumed would be coming from the other person he felt an odd chill. Then everything started to slot back into place.

Gerard showing up half starved and pushing him against the wall. His eyes wild as he downed the blood. The fact Frank invited him inside. 

Dawn had yet to yellow and Frank wondered if he should let Gerard sleep. His mouth was slightly agape with a sliver of fangs showing. Tease.

The used tin had rolled from their joint hands onto the floor. Speckles of blood stood out starkly against the plush blue rug. Frank sighed and mentally added that to his list of shit to clean, which somehow seemed to be getting longer rather than shorter.

He examined the flakes of dried blood along his wrist and down his sweater. As his eyes adjusted to the darkness he realized what he’d earlier thought to be shadows were large swaths of dried blood. They must’ve spilled more than Frank thought. There was no way Gerard wasn’t still hungry. He figured he'd better get another can now before this went in any other direction. 

Not that he  _ didn’t  _ think about it.

It wasn’t even on purpose; but sometimes, at night, he couldn’t help but wonder what Gerard’s teeth felt like. Was it like a tattoo needle? Sharper? More painful? Would he cry out in pain? Would he cry out with a different, heavier emotion?

As he made to untangle their limbs something pulled him back down. He held his breath. The old grandfather clock, Sweet Pea’s usual laboured breathing, tree branches tapping the windows- nothing sinister. He eyed the sleeping vampire beneath him. As gingerly as he could he ran a hand up Gerard’s chest. It slid easily against the thin cotton of his shirt and Frank could feel the coolness underneath- until it stopped.

He realized then they were quite literally pasted together with dried blood. The spill on his sweater earlier had dried as he slept against Gerard and their still tangled hands were encased in the matte sheen only old blood could produce.

His ministrations hadn’t been as gentle as he thought and eyes blinked up at him. Well not him so much as his neck. 

Gerard’s hand that wasn’t trapped in a Macbeth-esque handshake pushed down on Frank’s lower back and his nose pressed up below Frank’s ear. He could feel Gerard’s deep inhalation as their chests moved as one. 

For the first time in his life Frank stayed perfectly still. 

“Sorry.” Gerard’s voice was thick with sleep and guilt. “I should probably go.” Frank realized then he should explain why he was still laying on top of Gerard.

“We’re, uh, we’re stuck.”

“Oh. Usually I’m neater than that.”

“Right.”

A beat of silence passed.

“What, you got a straw or something?” Frank couldn’t help it. The mental image was too funny. “You usually put one of those little cocktail umbrellas in too?” He was properly laughing now as Gerard pulled their shirts apart and frowned at him.

“No! Usually I don’t, you, know-”

“Pour your entire meal on the poor soul who decided to take pity on you?”

“Hey! I think you’re being ungrateful.” A smile tugged at the corner of Gerard’s face now. They stood facing each other as Gerard slowly peeled their hands apart.

“What? Ungrateful for my dry cleaning bill?”

“No. You’re not being  _ nearly  _ grateful enough that I didn’t suck your blood.” Frank could hear him struggling to hold back a laugh. 

“Oh yeah, I’m so thankful you just used me like a human scent pole. Is that like smelling your wine before you drink it? I never got that.” 

Gerard’s face turned an impressive shade of crimson and Frank was pretty sure he won whatever fucked up game of chicken they were playing. 

“When I get that hungry I don’t really know what I’m doing. It’s just senses. I could smell you so I wanted to be,” Gerard closed his eyes, searching for the right word, “close. Sorry if I went too far.”

As far as he was concerned Gerard didn’t go _far_ enough. Not that he was going to mention it. Frank thought about the way his hands worked over his hips and gripped at his lower back. That was one way of putting it. _Close_. 

“It’s fine. It felt kind of nice.” Frank thought it put them on even footing; admitting he liked it.

“Oh.” 

They both stood, red faced, as Gerard’s eyes tracked around the room.

“I can’t believe you actually invited me in.”

Frank shrugged a shoulder. He trusted Gerard. It wasn’t that big of a deal. He bit his lip ring. 

“If I ask you a question will you tell me the truth?” 

Gerard looked at him with big, honest eyes. “Anything.”

“Why’d you paint your jacket like that?”

A confused laugh bubbled from Gerard’s mouth. “That’s it?”

“Tell me.” It had been bothering Frank since they first met.

“I’m not religious or anything but I always admired Joan of Arc. Willing to die for her beliefs, for her convictions, even if everyone thought she was insane.” Frank’s fingers ghosted over the rough paint on Gerard’s sleeve; the green and blue flames stood starkly against the grey denim. “Oranges and yellows, I feel like they don’t belong to me anymore. They’re part of the daytime. I feel like I’d taint them if I touched them somehow, you know?” He didn’t wait for an answer. “My parents were going to name me Mary if I was a girl. That’s why her face is on the back instead of Joan’s.”

“That’s it?”

“What do you mean that’s it?” His face scrunched up, a bit offended. He jerked his arm back from Frank.

“What, no! I didn’t mean it like that. I think it’s beautiful. Just-” He grabbed Gerard’s hand and marched him over to the mantle. The same face stared back at them from the single cross left in the room.

“Spooky.”

“I’d fucking say.”

They stood in silence for a moment.

“Frank do you trust me?”

“I invited you into my house while you were  _ literally  _ licking my neck. I’d say so.”

Gerard snorted. “Mikey would like you.”

“Who?” Frank wracked his brain trying to remember if Gerard had mentioned a Mikey before. Fuck, what if that was his vampire boyfriend or something?

“My brother.” Relief washed over Frank followed shortly by guilt.

“I’m sorry; it must be hard without him.” Frank had heard of vampires going insane as their friends and family slowly died off leaving only them to roam the world- alone. 

Gerard laughed.

“No dumbass; Mikey is alive. He’s probably wondering where I am to be honest.” Gerard eyed the clock.

“You should bring him here sometime. If you want, I mean.” Frank added quickly.

“Seriously?” Gerard smiled so wide it looked like his face might split in two. He tilted his head gently and kissed Frank on the cheek. Frank coughed. He suddenly wished Gerard had more siblings Frank could invite over. Maybe then Gerard would kiss him again.

“It’s no problem. Just uh, how are you both vampires? Look, I know you don’t want to talk about it it’s just-”

“It’s fine. I get it; it’s suspicious we both got turned.” There had been an expose in the 70’s about vampires turning close friends and family into vampires so they wouldn’t be alone. It was a dangerous and highly illegal practice. “After it happened to me I visited Mikey once. Our parents died in a car crash a few years before and he was going to be all alone. I had to say goodbye. It was the weirdest thing,” Gerard laughed but his eyes were cold, “Mikey didn’t say a damn thing to me. He just nodded and hugged me. I thought he was in shock or something. That night I went into the woods and he was just standing there frowning. I had no idea how he even found me. He bitched about bugs getting in his hair for a solid five minutes before I realized what he’d done. My idiot of a younger brother had sliced open his palm and waved it around in the forest until a vampire found him. He somehow talked them into turning him instead of killing him. He has this freaky power of persuasion thing, I swear. He decided if I was going to be a vampire I wasn’t going to do it by myself.”

Frank wanted to cry. Fuck. Imagine having someone that devoted to you. He figured he was right about Gerard being a good person. No way in hell would his brother have sacrificed his own life just so Gerard wouldn’t be lonely if Gerard was a jerk.

“You guys must’ve been close growing up.” 

“Honestly he acts more like the older brother than me. He’s a bossy little shit.” They both laughed because if Gerard was calling someone bossy then it had to be bad.

Gerard’s eyes settled on a small wooden frame of Frank’s third grade photo. His hair was slicked down with gel and he was pulling a face. His mother had been furious.

“That you?”

“Yeah.” Gerard laughed and something warm turned in Frank’s stomach.

“You were cute.” He picked up the photo to look closer. Well he tried to. As soon as his skin made contact his hand jerked back like he’d been burned. A sound akin to a hiss escaped his mouth.

As the photo clattered down Frank saw the cross carved into the wooden back. He almost felt bad undoing all the vampire proofing his grandma had worked so hard on.

He pulled Gerard’s hand to his chest without thinking. They were both breathing hard and the space between them felt very small; like maybe the universe was compressed there.

“You’re still cute by the way. Can you still pull that face?”

Frank was strung out on lack of sleep and endorphins. He licked the side of Gerard’s face. “Fuck off.”

“You’re disgusting.” Gerard made a big show of wiping off his face and Frank rolled his eyes.

“Mikey will be worried. I should-”

“Yeah.”

“Thank you Frank,” Gerard leaned in, just a bit too close to be purely friendly, “I mean it.”

It made Frank feel better to know Gerard didn’t just sit around and stare at trees all alone during the day. 

Like that he was gone. The only remnants of the weirdest four hours of Frank’s life were an empty tin and blood stains.

__________

After zonking out in bed for ten straight hours Frank dutifully got up and did jack shit. As he watched his coffee brew he realized dusk would be closing in soon. Apparently he was nocturnal now too. 

He didn’t have the slightest intention of going up to the attic today. The dust made him sneeze and could’ve sworn he saw a spider the size of Sweet Pea. That shit just wasn’t right. It wasn’t like he had any reason to rush back to the city.

Frank actively undid his work of the previous day as he unpacked fold up chairs and a card table to drag outside. He felt oddly inclined to put a tablecloth on it and blamed his mother’s strong genes.

He wondered what Gerard’s brother looked like. Was he dark haired and doe eyed too? Frank hoped not. He didn’t think he could handle being in the same room as  _ two  _ Gerards. Who was he kidding; he wasn’t exactly smooth with just the one either.

Frank saw Gerard first. All smiles and red cheeks. He looked like a kid on Christmas morning. So did Mikey; but, like, a Jewish kid who wasn’t getting any presents and had to watch his friends show them off for hours on end. 

Frank wondered if one of them was adopted. Gerard was an average height (tall as far as Frank was concerned) and thin but still solid. Mikey looked like a telephone pole. An awkward teenage telephone pole. All long limbs and sandy blonde hair sticking out at unnatural angles. Frank wondered how old Mikey was, and Gerard for that matter. Mikey had a sharp jaw and unimpressed eyes. Gerard’s begged a thousand questions at once and his face was rounder, softer. Gerard looked happy to be here. Mikey looked like he’d rather slit his wrists; or least do the dishes or some other equal crime.

Frank waved them both up onto the porch. Mikey finally looked Frank in the eye. He looked bored.

Frank realized then that was the presence he felt in the forest sometimes- watching him and Gerard. He was split between whether it was creepy or endearing. He wasn’t exactly sure what Mikey thought Frank, a human, could do to Gerard, a vampire, but decided not to bring it up.

“I’m Frank.” He stopped himself from reaching out a hand remembering how it had bothered Gerard when they first met.

“Wow, never would’ve guessed. Here I was, thinking there were  _ two  _ different guys Gerard was running off at night to meet. Nice to know which you are.” 

Gerard elbowed Mikey. “Be fucking nice.” He forced a grimace of a smile on his face and Gerard rolled his eyes dramatically. 

Frank couldn’t help but look up at Mikey’s teeth. Totally normal. His eyes drifted back to Gerard’s pointy fangs. 

Mikey laughed.

“He never lost his fucking baby teeth. The dentists don’t know what’s wrong with him.” An evil smile, the type that could only come from tormenting a sibling, spread on Mikey’s face.

“Seriously dude?” Frank couldn’t help the bubble of laughter that escaped his mouth.

Gerard looked betrayed at the sudden alliance against him.

“You’re just jealous I have bigger fangs!” 

“Do not! They just look bigger.”

“Because of your tiny tic tac teeth.” Frank added solemnly. Mikey high fived him. This was going way better than Frank thought it would. 

Him and Mikey continued to pick on Gerard as they sat around the vinyl card table. Eventually they moved on to music where Frank had to launch into battle alone against the worst thing on earth- Britpop. They looked like they might actually kill him when he referred to Blur as grunge ABBA. Unfortunately the two brothers were a formidable team and he admitted defeat half way through their thirty minute defense of Pulp. 

Stomach’s cramped with laughter and night thick in the air Frank could think of only one thing that could make their evening better. But he hesitated.

“I feel like I should get beers but, uh….” He trailed off, not really knowing where the sentence was supposed to head anyways. They should teach more about befriending your vampire crush’s brother in school, he decided. Now  _ that  _ would be useful. 

Both of them cracked up. Assholes.

“Yes, we can get drunk dumb ass.” 

“What did you think? Gerard was going to take advantage of you if you were the only drunk one?” Mikey added. Both him and Gerard blushed and Frank was pretty sure Gerard kicked his brother under the table. “It’s getting late though.” Mikey looked hesitantly eastward. 

“You mean early.”

Gerard rolled his eyes and it was Mikey who looked strangely disappointed. Frank supposed it made sense. Gerard was used to leaving. But why did they have to?

“Why don’t you guys stay? I mean the living room has curtains. We can close them all up. There’s, uh,  _ food  _ here too. If you want.” He eyed Mikey nervously, not sure how much Gerard had told him. 

Two sets of eyes looked at him like he’d grown another head. 

“Look, the SyFy channel is having a movie marathon. I’m planning on getting drunk and watching it. If you don’t want to join me that’s fine.” It wasn’t fine. Frank would probably go to bed and pout if they didn’t say yes.

“You have the SyFy channel?” Gerard was inside the house with the remote in his hand before Frank could answer and Mikey raised his eyebrows.

“You can come in too.” Frank, despite a million years of evolution, trusted Mikey as well.

Mikey sighed like he forgot that part was necessary. He seemed older suddenly. 

“Almost seemed normal for a second, huh?”

“Yeah,” Frank opened the door for him, “almost.”

Sweet Pea ran up to Mikey and started pawing at his leg as they walked through the door. He scooped her up and smiled. “You’re right,” he called over to Gerard, “she’s cute.”

Frank shot Sweet Pea a look. Seriously? She was like the anti-guard dog.

Two Texas Chainsaw Massacres and one Alien later the trio had emptied out a good portion of Frank’s beer and fallen asleep on the couch. Frank’s head rested on Gerard's shoulder. Mikey managed an eyeroll and a gagging sound before he drifted off as well.

______

After Frank awoke in the afternoon he stumbled into the kitchen to start the coffee maker. He couldn’t figure out what was wrong with his face until he looked in a mirror. Oh. He was smiling.

He cracked open two cans of blood like it was a daily occurrence to have vampires sleepover. Like it was normal.

He trudged back downstairs to pour three mugs of coffee as two terse voices greeted him.

He couldn’t make out what Gerard and Mikey were saying but it was evident they were arguing. And keeping it a secret from him.

He didn’t have time to dwell on it as a second sound approached the house. 

Tires.

_ Fuck.  _ It had been a week already. When Ray was done at the record shop he’d promised to come help Frank.

Why did Ray have to be such a good friend? Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

Gerard’s knit brows and Mikey’s scowl peeked out from the living room. Frank rushed down the last few stairs as the door flew open.

Curly haired, and looking mildly annoyed Frank had ignored his last two calls, stood Ray.

His expression quickly shifted though. His eyes darted between the open cans, Gerard’s teeth and the drawn curtains.

“Frank? Who the fuck are they?”   
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really appreciate all of your comments :'O Reading them seriously makes my day! I'm making a playlist for this fic tonight and I'll post it on my tumblr @patron-saint and will update this chapter with the link when I'm done. 
> 
> Two chapters left! I'm really excited with where this goes! I have two fics in the same universe planned after this. <3
> 
> edit: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/28s9uT9dI0RrqXcBQIx08S?si=PALnn9t0TGWoIOYGxAKUTQ


	4. Pansies suck and so do you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Are you alright?" Gerard's voice brought him back down to Earth. It was wrecked and angelic. Like a cherub with a nicotine problem.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Started writing, had a mental breakdown, bon appetite.

"Uh, my cousins?" Gerard looked offended and Mikey rolled his eyes. Fine, maybe Frank wasn't the best liar.

"Really? Okay, so," His hands were on his hips and Frank could swear his hair was getting bigger with rage, "the lovechild of a twink and a soccer mom, and the dude who looks like he hasn't showered for  _ at least _ five years are your cousins?"

"I showered like three weeks ago!"

Frank cut him a look. "Three weeks?" His nose scrunched up.

"You weren't complaining when we were on the couch s-"

"Shut up!" Mikey and Ray both looked vaguely scandalized.

"Sleeping!" Gerard's face had flushed a deep pink. "We were sleeping!"

"Also I do not look like a soccer mom!"

Ray, seeming to forget he was arguing with a vampire, carried on. "There's no way you don't have those massive white sunglasses with, like, rhinestones on the side."

Gerard burst into a fit of hysterics. "He does, he fucking does! He wears them when we smoke pot and watch rom coms so I won't see him crying."

Mikey looked like he was highly considering walking onto the porch and taking his chance with the sun.

"I told you! I have  _ sensitive  _ eyes."

"Yeah real fucking sensitive dude. I bet-"

Frank cut himself off as he caught a glimpse of Ray's expression. As they'd been laughing Gerard had absentmindedly picked up the tin of blood and had a sip. Red still rimmed his lips.

A somber silence fell over them.

"Everyone sit down." For once no one argued. Frank could feel Ray's exasperation as he sat next to Gerard who bumped his shoulder comfortably with his own.

The three of them looked at the floor like they'd been called into the principal's office.

Ray was silent for a long minute.

"I leave you alone for a week, a week! And you start a Bed and Breakfast for vampires? For vampires, Frank! The fact that I have to be the adult here is insane! I'm 25, not your mother!"

"I mean you are older than me...." Frank was testing luck he knew he didn't have.

"By two years Frank!" Ray and Frank's staring contest was interrupted but the subjects of Ray's dismay.

"Oh we're the same age- sweet!"

"You're four years older than me. Not too bad. Awful photo though." Mikey scrunched up his face in sympathy.

"Yeah, I'm sorry dude but he's right. Were you sneezing in this?"

"Oh my God, did you used to straighten your hair?"

The two brothers had Ray's wallet in their hands and were currently squinting at his driver's license.

They paused in their comments as they saw Ray's face. It was like he had invented a new emotion, beyond anger. Frank considered the irony of living in a haunted forest and being killed by his best friend.

"Sorry?" Mikey offered weakly.

It had been exactly six months since Ray quit smoking.

He reached into Frank's pajama pants pocket and pulled out the half smoked pack.

"Lighter."

Three lighters were immediately offered his way. He took the lime green one from Frank's outstretched hand, pointedly ignoring Gerard and Mikey's.

_ Click _ .

A haze of smoke mixed in with his hair.

"To be clear, you Frank," he motioned with his pilfered cigarette, "invited these two-"

"Gerard and Mikey-"

"You invited Gerard and Mikey, two vampires, into your house of your own freewill because?"

"Um, the SyFy channel was having a movie marathon?"

Ray reached back into Frank's pocket and retrieved the rest of the pack.

"Hey!"

"I'm gonna need these."

"Look, we'd never hurt him! We just wanted someone to hang out with." Gerard sat down on the couch and sighed, willing Ray to understand. "We haven't done anything so far, right?"

Ray examined Frank's neck and had to relent. He looked fine. Maybe a bit hungover.

"Vampires aren't evil."

"And the ones who kill people?" Ray stared them down.

"Those are the possessed ones." Mikey interjected. "The rest of us would never."

"Besides we can feed from people without killing them, without draining them, just taking a little bit. Not that we do anyways. We have more of this," Gerard shook the tin of blood, "where we live."

What Frank should've been noting was Ray's thoughtful expression, like he was really thinking about giving them a chance. What Frank was thinking about instead was Gerard biting him. Just taking a little bit. Yeah, that wouldn't be too bad.

Frank put a pillow from the couch over his lap as nonchalantly as possible.

"But how do we know? How do we know  _ you  _ won't get possessed and try to kill us?" Ray's brows were scrunched together. He wanted to trust them. He did trust them. But he didn't trust demons.

"Fucking thank you!" All eyes turned to Mikey. Gerard looked upset and Ray and Frank surprised. "That's what I keep fucking telling Gerard!"

Frank thought back to their whispered argument this morning.

Mikey continued on. "He thinks he could stop himself from hurting you but it's not- it's not like that! You don't get to pick and choose who the crazy demon possessing you gets to kill like it's a fucking ice cream parlour! Look, this was fun, like really fucking fun, but it doesn't matter. We can't risk it." His voice fell quiet at the end.

Ray nodded at Mikey in a weird alliance.

Frank stayed on the couch beside Gerard.

It was a standoff.

Well, of sorts. Mainly they all silently brewed and smoked a lot of cigarettes. Mikey had out his flip phone and was playing tetris. Gerard was starting to get bored and kept poking Frank's side. Frank considered licking his face in retaliation but figured that wouldn't sit too well with Ray.

Five minutes in Frank couldn't take the silence anymore and broke.

"One time. That's all I'm asking for. We all hang out one time and if anyone feels uncomfortable we'll stop."

Mikey and Ray looked sceptical.

"What, do you  _ feel  _ possessed Mikey?" Gerard rolled his eyes at his younger brother.

"Fine." Ray snubbed out his third cigarette. "Once. That's it."

_________

Twenty minutes later they were all up in the attic sifting through papers. Apparently Frank's idea of hanging out was roping his friends into doing his work for him.

"I'm starting to think you only invited them in because you didn't want to do all this packing by yourself." Ray threw another book into the box at his feet.

Frank shrugged. "Maybe. I'm a man of mystery; I'll never reveal my secrets." 

"Yeah, I can't believe you forced us into physical labour. Not cool." Mikey remarked as he sat on a box, flipping through a magazine.

"You better watch it Mikey. Don't want to sprain a wrist looking through Teen Vogue." Gerard passed Frank another stack of documents to look through as he snarked at his brother.

Mikey rolled his eyes. "It's normal Vogue."

"Oh, that's waaaaaay less embarrassing." Frank blew the dust off in Mikey's direction hoping to at least vaguely annoy him. He didn't even blink. Fucker.

Ray turned abruptly and walked down the stairs to the main house. Gerard and Mikey looked at Frank who could only shrug as he followed Ray down.

"You okay?" Ray leaned on the kitchen counter with a far away look in his eyes. "I know you just spent the last week packing up the store. You don't have to pack you know. You can just chill downstairs if you want?"

Ray laughed but it didn't crinkle up his eyes like it normally did. "The store. That seems so far away now. Like two days ago I was alphabetizing Metallica records and now- fuck. We're hanging out with vampires? It's just a lot."

Frank thought back to his panic attack when he first saw Gerard. All things considered Ray was handling it remarkably well.

"Want a beer?"

Ray didn't answer. Frank cracked one open and slid it across the counter anyway.

"Mikey and Gerard, they're good people Ray. They just got a bad hand in life." If there was one thing Ray and Frank could relate to it was shitty luck.

"Speaking of which," Ray turned to face him, "what exactly is going on with you and Gerard?"

Frank's face flushed and he hid it behind his own beer.

"I saw your subtle pillow move on the couch. Freak." Ray elbowed him in the ribs and Frank scowled.

"Nothing is going on! We're friends!"

"Well if you start staring at my ass that much I will be creeped out. Just an FYI."

"Well I'm pretty sure I saw Mikey making eyes at you earlier. He might get jealous."

"Right, well I'm pretty sure Mikey has never actually had an expression other than vague boredom."

"Vague boredom  _ and  _ the hots for Ray Toro."

Ray threw a bottle cap at him.

Frank gathered up a solid armful of beers. It was barely 4pm. "What do you say we make packing more fun?"

Ray laughed again. This time it reached his eyes.

___________

Solidly through the first case of beer packing was starting to look up. By look up, it is of course meant that they'd all quit working.

Frank has wrestled the magazine away from Mikey and was making paper airplanes from the pages. He aimed them at Gerard's head, who was currently deep in conversation about the newest issue of Doom Patrol with Ray. Mikey unpacked several boxes downstairs until he found a blender. When he showed back up with a frozen, fruity drink that smelled of vodka and had a suspiciously red tinge Frank had to say  _ something _ . Well, he didn’t  _ have  _ to; but sometimes Frank liked to be a dick.

"What? Watching your weight Mikeyway?"

"I will end your life." He stared, deadeyed, at Frank while he sipped his drink through a straw. Frank didn't bother asking where he'd procured the margarita glass.

"Please for the love of God don't tell me you're making blood cocktails again?" Gerard rolled his eyes at his brother.

"Again?" Ray raised his eyebrows.

"What? A meal and drink in one! It's smart!"

That, of course, devolved into a debate on the best blood/food combinations. It felt weirdly natural.

Frank couldn't help the heaviness in his chest as the evening went on. Was this it? Would this be the last time they saw each other? He glimpsed the same sadness in Gerard's eyes as both leaned out the window into the night air to smoke, their arms pressed together. Ray and Mikey were across the room trying to create a makeshift dartboard out of sewing needles, corks and an embroidered wall hanging. It didn't sound like it was going particularly well.

"Gerard?"

"Yeah?" The night played in shadows across his cheeks and his lips looked wet in the moonshine.

"This isn't it, right?" His voice shook more than he thought it would.

"Mikey isn't wrong Frank. I was being reckless, coming here all the time. If I got possessed and hurt you-" he cut himself off, not being able to bear finishing the thought, "it's for the best." Starlight clawed at his eyes.

"Bullshit!" He was louder than he meant to be and Ray and Mikey looked over. "This is all fucking bullshit! There must be something we can do. You guys can't exile yourselves out here forever. You can't  _ leave _ . You just can't." His voice was softer now and he knew he sounded desperate but he didn't care. Mikey and Gerard were his friends and it wasn't fucking fair and Frank was ready to fight for it.

Gerard's hand settled on Frank's shoulder. "We've been over this in every direction. It's not safe." His voice was gentle and if Frank thought he meant it, really meant it, he would drop it. But he heard the hesitation, he saw the hope in his eyes.

"We can't just give up."

"It's not your call Frank." Mikey walked up to them. He looked apologetic. And a bit tipsy.

"Guys. Guys, holy shit!"

They all turned to face Ray who was staring at an open book in his hands.

"This book, it talks about vampires and possessions."

"And?" Frank wasn't sure why Ray looked so excited.

"It mentions a cure. It doesn't say what it is but it talks about it. How it's been done before."

"Ray what are you talking about?" Frank's brows drew together.

"A cure for what?" Mikey looked confused.

But Gerard was looking straight at Ray. "A cure for vampirism."

The world seemed to tilt on its axis. All the thoughts Frank had been trying to hold back since he met Gerard tumbled forward. There was hope.

They all scrambled around Ray and he read from the book:

"The undead may live again with warm blood their own and may roam free from Satan’s grasp. Shrouded in secrecy from ancient times, alas, the cure remains unknown to most."

"How do we know it's real? I've never heard of a vamp being cured. No offense to your grandma Frank." Gerard peeled at his cuticles.

"Gerard's right. We need a way to check it before we get our hopes up." Well too fucking late there, Frank thought as Ray spoke.

Mikey started to flip through his stack of magazines.

"Seriously Mikey? Now isn't really the time." Gerard snapped. Mikey cut him a look and pulled a tattered piece of paper much older than the magazines from between two pages.

He shrugged. "Thought it might be useful later."

An inked map of the forest splayed out in his fingers. Showing, in the neatest calligraphy, where to find a plant called Seraph's Thorn with an illustration.

"Look, if this map is right I say we can trust anything else we find up here." They all nodded at Frank's statement.

Ray was already slipping on his jacket.

"What're you doing?"

"Come on. Don’t you want to know?"

Frank smirked. "You got attached!"

"Oh shut up!"

"You two stay here and see what else you can find. I'll go with Ray to make sure nothing happens to him." The statement, to an outsider, would seem absurd.

Mikey looked like he would collapse in an asthmatic attack if he ran a mile while Ray looked, well, like Ray. He was tall and well built. Mikey could've blown over in a stiff breeze and Ray could take a few punches with a drink in his hand. Frank would know- he'd seen it on a few rougher nights out. Despite all that only Mikey could ward off other vampires.

Coats on and flashlights in hand, they headed out the door. Ray barely seemed concerned about heading into the woods with a vampire he met four hours ago.

____________

"Hey, Gerard, you hungry?" Frank and Gerard had been sorting through loose papers while Ray and Mikey followed the map. It had barely been 15 minutes since they left and Frank had caught Gerard staring at his neck a total of seven times.

Maybe Mikey was onto something with his blood-garitas.

Gerard licked his bottom lip without enough shame to even raise his gaze from Frank's neck. "Yeah, a bit."

"I'll get you something." Gerard's eyes followed him down the stairs.

Frank sighed as he hesitated over the tin with an opener. They were getting low. He supposed it wasn't really anyone's fault. His grandma clearly didn't expect someone would be inviting vampires over as house guests.

Suddenly his hips were pressed forward into the counter and he almost dropped the tin. Gerard's breath played along his neck. He could feel his hands wrap around his waist as he plucked the tin from Frank's fingers.

"Did I scare you?"

"No."

"Your heart's beating fast."

Frank let the accusation hang in the air.

"Everything okay?"

"Yeah," he paused and Frank could've sworn Gerard sniffed him, "just smells good."

"I haven't opened it yet."

"I know."

"Gerard." He meant for it to come out as a warning. Gerard knew exactly what he was doing to Frank and it wasn't fucking fair. He couldn't stand that close and say those things.

But it didn't. It came out as a plea.

"You're getting low." Gerard eyed the nearly empty cupboard. He hadn't moved from his position pressed up against Frank.

"What Mikey said earlier, about you just being able to take a little bit?"

"Not when it's old like this. When it’s fresh we don't need as much."

"That's what I mean."

"Frank, Frank no. I couldn't I-"

"Com’on Gerard. It can’t taste good. From a can like that? Wouldn't it be nice to have something warm?"

"You can’t say shit like that Frankie! I think about it all the fucking time. How nice you'd feel in my mouth," Frank nearly moaned at that, "but it's not right to do. Biting you, it will hurt at first and then it will, well it will feel amazing. Endorphins and shit. But I don't want you to misplace any feeling because of it. It wouldn't be fair on you Frank."

Through the daze in his mind all Frank could tell Gerard was saying was he didn't want to bite him because it would turn Frank on. Well too fucking late.

"How's this for fair?" Frank turned in Gerards arms and pressed his mouth, fucking finally pressed his mouth, against Gerard’s own.

It should've been a romantic, chaste, little kiss. Just enough to say  _ you biting me won’t trick me into liking you, I already have feelings for you. _

But it wasn't. Teeth bumped together and Frank's mouth fell open immediately. Gerard tangled a hand in his hair and gave it a tug. Frank moaned as Gerard's leg slipped in between his. His tongue ran over Gerard's fangs and his mind filled with a thick, hot haze.

It was like the universe finally slotted together when they kissed. Like the planets finally knew which direction to go and stars learned how to stay in the sky. Like the inky blackness of the night was just another type of home and they could live forever until the morning light.

Together they tasted like beer, stale cigarettes and gut punch decisions.

Star clotted eyes locked as they finally drew apart. A thin line of saliva still connected their mouths and Frank's shirt had been pushed up past his hip bones. Gerard hooked his cold thumbs into the waistband of Frank's jeans and crashed their hips together again.

"I've wanted to do that since I met you. Biting me isn't going to make me want to shove my tongue down your throat any more than I already do."

Gerard had the audacity to blush at that. Then his eyes dropped.

"Fuck, what if this all goes wrong? What if that book is bullshit and there is no cure?"

"Then at least we got to do this once. Gerard if this all goes to hell I want to remember you. Please," his fingers carded through the taller's hair and he couldn't find it in himself to be embarrassed at the desperation in his voice "let me remember you?"

Gerard looked half way between pained and lust soaked. "I don't think I'll make an awfully good memory Frankie."

"That's not your decision."

Finality and something heavier hung in the air as Gerard leaned down to kiss him again. Frank pushed their lips together until he was sure they would bruise.

The stars outside trembled.

They separated barely a centimetre. Just enough to speak.

"You sure?"

"Yeah."

"If you want me to stop just-"

"Just suck my blood already you tease." A giddy laugh escaped their mouths.

Frank ran a hand along Gerard's lower back as Gerard sunk to his knees and started to undo Frank's belt.

What had he just agreed to? Not that he was complaining about the cold hands tugging down his underwear just enough to expose his hip.

"I'm really,  _ really _ , not telling you to stop but what are you doing?"

Gerard smirked up at him as he licked a line up Frank's hip bone. Fuck.

"I'm gonna bite your thigh. It's dangerous to take from the neck; plus I'm pretty sure Mikey and Ray would flip if they saw fang marks on you."

"Please don't make me think about Ray and Mikey right now."

Gerard laughed but his eyes were dark. He gripped Frank's hips and pinned him to the counter. Frank realized then how strong Gerard actually was. He couldn't have moved away if he wanted to. Gerard licked and nosed at his thigh. He pinched the flesh lightly between his regular teeth and twisted it until Frank yelped.

"Sorry."

"No you're not."

"No I'm not."

It was then Frank realized he'd done it to distract him. To take his mind off the searing pain that followed.

His entire world collapsed and pulsed in it's own ruins as two thin fangs punctured his skin. It was too cold and too hot all at once. Angels screamed and he suddenly understood why Mary was always crying in paintings. Fire moved up his body and he wondered if this is what being burnt at the stake felt like. He supposed most didn't hand over matches willingly and tie themselves up though.

And then it stopped. The pain faltered and then fell. Pushed aside by more pleasure than he'd ever known. Somewhere back in reality he could feel Gerard's hands on his hips; his only anchor left to the real world. His new world was just made of sensations and burned so bright the sun needn't rise. He was vaguely aware of the hardness between his own legs and his hands clutching at Gerard's hair. All the blue turned yellow. Juliet didn't seem like a silly little girl anymore. All the ballrooms of Mars didn't seem big enough for them.

Like that it was over. A whole universe born and died in under three minutes.

Gerard drew back his head and licked sweetly at the wound. Had he seen the birth of Venus too?

"Are you alright?" Gerard's voice brought him back down to Earth. It was wrecked and angelic. Like a cherub with a nicotine problem.

Frank laughed and he knew it sounded hysterical. "Alright? Fuck- I've never- fuck- that felt-"

Gerard smiled like he was really quite proud of himself- the fucker.

A thin line of Frank's blood dripped from Gerard's mouth. Gerard smeared it off with his fingers and then stuck them in his mouth and started sucking. He looked up at Frank from the floor and Frank swore to God he might actually come in his pants.

It was precisely then Frank's body decided standing was no longer feasible and he slid down the wall to sit facing Gerard who immediately kissed him. And  _ Holy Shit _ that was his blood still in Gerard's mouth.

He drew back and coughed. The vile metallic taste snaking its way through all of his senses. It was overwhelming. How the fuck did Gerard drink that stuff?

Pink blossomed on Gerard's cheeks and despite looking like a porn star 30 seconds ago he just looked embarrassed now.

"Fuck! I'm sorry I didn't think." He put a cold hand up to Frank's cheek. "I just wanted to kiss you." He added quietly.

Well it wasn't like Frank could be mad at that.

"So we're definitely doing that again." Frank's voice didn't sound much better than Gerard's who smiled over at him and pressed their foreheads together.

"I hope so Frankie."

Eventually their fear of being caught by Ray and Mikey drove them back up to the attic. Gerard washed the blood from his face and Frank thought about a bunch of very unsexy things until his hard on went away. There was no way in hell he was risking Ray and Mikey walking in on them.

They laid on the attic floor passing a cigarette back and forth as they held hands. Every few minutes Frank would roll onto his elbows and kiss Gerard. Just because he could.

It was nice.

They reluctantly let go as they heard foot falls on the stairs, not quite ready to face the inevitable lecture.

"I see while Mikey and I were risking our lives in the forest you got a lot done."

They were both still laying on the floor. Frank with a cigarette in hand, fingers itching at the sudden loss of Gerard's own.

Mikey eyed his brother suspiciously but didn't say anything.

"It works by the way."

"Wait, what?" Frank and Gerard stood, crowding Ray and Mikey for answers.

A smile split across Ray's face and Mikey almost looked not bored.

Ray pulled out a delicate white plant from his coat pocket. It was a perfect match to the image on the map.

Maybe the universe didn't hate them that much after all. Somewhere in this attic there was very likely a legitimate cure for vampirism. Frank and Gerard locked eyes and smiled.

Ray and Mikey rehashed their trip to the woods. Making it overly dramatic, Frank suspected.

After one more round of celebratory drinks Gerard and Mikey looked at eachother and Frank knew they had to leave.

"We should go. It's going to be dawn soon and you're getting low on blood supplies. We'll be back tomorrow night."

Gerard pouted. "Wouldn't be so low if you didn't make like seven drinks."

"Did not!"

"Did too!"

"Anyways," Ray cut them off, "we'll see you tomorrow for, uh, research I guess. And I think I owe you an apology." He studied Mikey and Gerard briefly. "I freaked out earlier and honestly you're both great." Gerard beamed at him.

"Sap." Mikey rolled his eyes.

Frank felt a tug in his heart as he watched them disappear down the stairs.

"This yours?" Ray held up a grey and black striped scarf.

Frank's heart soared. If he ran he could probably make it. He snatched the scarf from Ray and darted down the stairs and outside to the porch.

"Gerard! Gerard! You left your ugly little scarf here!"

"Ugly?" A surprisingly close voice whispered in his ear.

"You fucker you planned this! I ran down the stairs for you!" His breathing was still ragged but that might have had something to do with Gerard's arms around his waist.

"Smoking," Gerard whispered against his lips, "it's a nasty habit Frank." They kissed.

"I'll see you soon."

"Can’t get rid of me now."

They grinned like kids at each other.

It was over too soon and Gerard squeezed his hand before turning back to the forest. His scarf was draped around Frank's neck.

He slumped onto the couch next to Ray who gave him a once over.

"I'm not even going to ask."

Frank laughed. "Two weeks ago we were just a couple burnouts working at a record store. This is insane."

"You're telling me," Ray stretched out on the couch, "try hunting through a haunted forest with a vampire you just met for magical herbs."

They both giggled.

"You think we're still at rock bottom then? Or just a different type?" His voice turned serious and Ray was quiet for so long Frank thought he wasn't going to answer.

"I think it depends."

"On?"

"Do you want to wake up tomorrow?"

He thought of Mikey's snide comments, of Ray's laugh, of Gerard's lips. "Yeah."

"Then you're not at rock bottom."

They laid on the floor together in a nest of pillows and blankets as the light of the muted television cast inhuman shadows across the room.

"I don’t know." Frank's voice broke the silence.

"Don't know what?"

"If I want to leave."

Ray looked at him quizzically.

"Rock bottom. It kind of feels like home; I'm scared to leave."

"Don't you want more?"

"I don't know if I deserve it Ray."

"The worlds not fair. You deserve whatever you manage to take from it. Doesn't matter how you got it."

"Doesn't it?"

"Go to sleep Frank."

He tried to. He really did. But his eyes felt swollen like overstuffed cigarettes and the mark on his thigh still tingled. He wanted to go back up to the attic and rip through it. Wanted to tear it up until he found whichever unholy item would keep him and Gerard together; because if it wasn’t there he was headed somewhere much lower than rock bottom. He’d make sure of it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One chapter left! Your comments make me cry ily all so much! And yes, Mikey is my favourite to write. This fic focuses mainly on Frank but the next one in this universe goes back and forth between all of them! So more Mikey! Yay!
> 
> Also writing 5k words was worth it just for the blood-garitas pun. 
> 
> Playlist link is in the last chapter.
> 
> :)


	5. Teenage novocaine and other pep rally creatures

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally this fic was supposed to have five chapters but I had to split that last one into two as I was 8k words in and not done yet. So here is the second to last chapter. It’s creepier than the others and most of the plot resolves itself here. The sixth chapter will mainly be sappy wrap up and will set up the next fic in this universe. 

As dusk settled in, Ray and Frank rose from their makeshift bedroom in the living room. The guest room had seemed much too far away last night in his sleep clogged mind. He switched on the coffee maker for both their benefit as neither had adjusted to their new nocturnal schedule.

Something about the house seemed distinctly  _ off.  _ Frank chalked it up to Ray’s presence as he wasn’t used to having anyone (other than the undead) in the house with him. 

As coffee cleared their minds Frank realized what was missing. The sickly gruff breathing of Sweet Pea. He tried to be sensible as panic rose in his throat.

“Ray did you let Sweet Pea out before I got up?”

“No, why?” So much for sensible.

“Not a-fucking-gain!” Ray followed him with a confused face as he ran out onto the porch, both still in their pajamas. 

Frank ran out into the woods with very little care as to what lurked there. He barely felt the fallen leaves and damp moss under his socked feet as he wandered in deeper, calling out her name. 

God, he was such a fuck up. The only thing that cared about him unconditionally and he let her get out- twice! He racked his brain trying to think of a time she could’ve gotten out without him noticing. The windows had all been closed and doors firmly locked. 

Eventually Ray managed to haul him back inside the house to put on a coat and shoes. He hadn’t noticed he was shaking. 

Rain pelted the duo as they headed back out and Frank could feel Ray’s pitying gaze whenever he wasn’t looking. 

“What the hell are you two doing out here?” Frank’s heart skipped a beat. Last time Gerard had shown up when Sweet Pea was missing- 

His chest felt hollow as he turned and saw both brothers’ Way empty handed. 

“Sweet Pea got out.” Ray explained.

“Because I’m a shitty dog owner and-”

“She got out Frank- it’s not your fault.” Gerard put a hand on his shoulder, the cold seeping through all Frank’s layers.

“We should try again later. It’s impossible to see out here right now. She could be right in front of us and we’d have no idea.” Mikey nodded at Ray.

Mist rolled in, thick and heavy. Frank could barely see the others before him. Even he had to call it.  _ Fuck. _

“You seriously need to start showering Gerard. There’s actual  _ dirt  _ under your fingernails.” Ray joked, trying to lighten the mood as they walked back.

Frank tried to find Gerard’s hand as they walked but it kept floating just out of reach.

The house seemed too empty as they all filed in. 

“Frank it’s gonna be okay. I’m sure she just wanted to explore for a bit and then fell asleep. We can look some more when the fog clears up.” Mikey tried his hand at being uncharacteristically comforting. He even reached out to pat Frank’s shoulder but at the last minute changed his mind resulting in a weird mid air hover and more of a grimace than a smile on his face.

The victorious energy from last night had all but dissolved as four soggy burnouts-turned-archivists climbed the steps to the attic, mugs of coffee in hand. 

“What exactly are we looking for? I mean it probably won’t say CURE in red across the front, you know?” Sometimes Frank hated Ray for being the voice of reason.

“I don’t know. Guess we’ll just put it aside if it looks promising and then we can go through those together afterwards?” Frank looked out the small window as he spoke, hoping beyond all reason Sweet Pea might appear in the yard. She didn’t. 

Ray and Mikey moved to the far corners of the attic to start sifting through stacks as Gerard pressed up behind him. His hand wrapped hard enough against his hip to leave marks and Frank had to stop himself from gasping. 

“Gerard what are you- Ray and Mikey are here.” He turned his head back to look him in the eye and saw Gerard gazing out the window at the chunks of overturned earth and dirt between the porch and the border of the forest. He realized Gerard must miss her too and felt bad for snapping.

“She’ll be alright Frank,” Gerard squeezed his hip again before dropping his arm and turning to his own stack of documents, “I promise.”

They abandoned their original tactic of putting aside books that Might Be Useful Later as the stack eventually dwarfed even Ray. This left them with no option but to read every book in the attic front to back. As middle school report cards may have suggested none of them were exactly speed readers. Three hours had passed and only nine books had been gone through. All of them now sat in the Useless pile.

The stars weren’t visible in the deeply clouded sky but Frank was sure they spelled out desolate.

Eventually their mugs ran dry and Frank took the excuse to get out of the attic that never seemed to have quite enough air. 

As a steady stream of appropriately cheap coffee filled the pot, steps sounded on the stairs. Hoping to see Gerard privately, Frank couldn’t help his disappointment at seeing Mikey.

“Wrong Way?” Fuck, that kid was observant.

“What’d ya need Mikey? Frank wasn’t in the mood for small talk. Or any talk that didn’t involve either a cure or the location of his dog, if he were being honest.

He leaned against the counter, solidly putting himself between Frank and the coffee. Frank’s mood worsened. Bad move. 

“Look, I don’t know what’s going on between you and Gerard but-” Mikey lowered his voice as he spoke before Frank cut him off.

“Now’s not really the time for a Stay Away From My Brother talk. In case you haven’t noticed I’m kind of having a shitty day.” He turned to leave but Mikey caught his arm.

“Has Gerard seemed  _ off  _ to you?”

His statement made Frank freeze. The fuck was Mikey’s problem?

“ _ Off?”  _ He shook Mikey’s grip and crossed his arms.

“Just, I don’t know, not normal?

“What does that even mean?”

“The blood’s all gone.”

“The what?”

“All the blood at our place- the shit in cans, you know? I got up today and it was all gone except one can and Gerard dropped it.”

“You’re upset because Gerard dropped something? Jesus, you need to chill. You won’t even tell us where you live! Maybe you finished it and forgot! Yeah, something’s  _ off  _ Mikey. You’re fucking vampires.” He watched as the youngest Way brother washed the hurt away from his face with a scowl.

“Watch yourself Frank. That’s all I’m saying.” He turned on his heel and stormed back up the stairs. 

Frank poured coffee and thought of the two measly tins left in his own cupboard. He walked back up with two mugs of coffee and two mugs of blood. Mikey was pissing him off and Gerard  _ was  _ being a bit weird. But he’d rather have annoying and overly touchy vampires in his attic than annoying, overly touchy,  _ hungry  _ vampires in his attic.

Mikey gave him a nod that clearly signalled a peace treaty in Mikey Way language as he passed over the mug. Gerard eyed the side of Frank's face. “I forgot you had some.” Mikey shot him a look and Frank rolled his eyes. 

Great, he managed a new friend for 48 hours before getting into a fight. He wondered how Ray put up with him. How long Gerard would. Even his coffee tasted gross, like salt and something bitter. It was a shitty fucking evening Frank decided.

A bright spot finally came in his day as Gerard announced the attic was starting to feel claustrophobic and he was going to look at some of the documents and books downstairs and descended with a stack in his arms. 

_ Ha!  _ And Mikey thought he was acting weird. Clearly he was just trying to get some time alone with Frank. His flesh tingled as he remembered the feeling of his teeth in his leg. He waited five minutes and followed, muttering something about the bathroom.

Gerard was facing the fireplace and turned as Frank crossed the room from the stairwell.

“I miss you Frank.” Seconds later a flush was rising on his cheeks as Gerard drew his arms around his neck and kissed him. He grimaced as their chests brushed and Frank pulled off his cross necklace, letting it pool on the ground.

“I miss you too.” He let his head fall onto his chest as he wrapped his arms around Gerard’s waist. He wasn’t in the mood to be pulled at- he wanted to be held. Rain pelted the windows and an orange glow fell over the room as the fire roared. He could taste pomegranates in the back of his throat.

They stood, together as one, in the sitting room until Frank’s fingers itched for a cigarette. 

He let his head roll to the side, the side of his face flush against Gerard’s chest, as he lit up. He passed it to Gerard and then lit one for himself. 

“Say we find it- the cure. What happens then? Everyone thinks you and Mikey are dead, don’t they? You can’t just act like things are normal.” Frank, for the most part, had spent great swaths of his life avoiding questions about the future and possible consequences of his actions as long as he could remember. But the smoke was making him bitter and every rain drop sounded like a gunshot against the window as he thought of Sweet Pea out there- alone. He wanted to wallow. To make himself as sad as he could. That apparently involved dragging Gerard down with him. Just when he thought he couldn’t be a shittier person.

“Do you really want the answer?” Gerard’s eyes seemed blank, as firelight cast something darker than black over them. 

He didn’t trust his voice so he nodded, letting his cigarette ash fall to the carpet atop the blood stains from Gerard’s first visit.

“It doesn’t matter.”

“What?”

“It doesn’t matter because you’re not going to find the cure. Do you really think information like that is just sitting in some fucking old lady’s attic?” 

Frank recoiled like Gerard had slapped him. He’d seen it.  _ He’d fucking seen it!  _ When they’d watched the stars out the attic window- there was hope in Gerard’s eyes. Real hope- not that discount stuff you got from prescriptions and Bloody Marys. The type that was velvet and wet and the deepest of purple. The hopes and Kings and Queens without empires and sheep without wolves. With aspiration and without fear. 

But this? This was cynicism. Frank knew the flavour well. 

“Yeah- and you did too!” His stomach started twisting itself in knots.

He scowled and turned up the stairs. Gerard followed close behind him. He smelled nice- like fresh earth and smoke. Frank didn’t notice he walked back up the stairs empty handed.

The atmosphere upstairs was no better than down. No place to run to. Had Salem felt like this, so many years ago? 

“Where are they?” Mikey’s voice cut through the attic.

“Where are what?” Gerard’s brows drew together as Mikey faced him. They were inches apart and it was then Frank realized Mikey was taller than Gerard.

“You need to chill out Mikes.” Ray put a hand on Mikey’s shoulder who was quick to shake it off.

“The books you took! Where are they?”

Frank remembered how the fireplace burned brighter than usual as they’d embraced downstairs. A sinking feeling poured down his spine. 

“I must’ve left them downstairs. Calm down- I’ll go get them.” He rolled his eyes but there was a terseness under his movements. Like a strung out wild animal waiting for its prey.

Mikey followed Gerard’s steps in tandem as he went down the stairs.

“Frank? Frank, you okay? You’re not looking too good.” A warm hand gripped his side.

Ray.  _ Ray.  _ Ray was safe. Ray was his friend. Gerard passed through his head and doubt nagged at his mind- along with a wave of nausea. 

“I’ll be right back.” He ran down the stairs to the closest bathroom and locked the door behind him.

Thick vomit coated his throat and burned his nose as he keeled over the toilet. His body seemed to purge every vile thought and cruel action in him. He let himself hit the cold tiles when he was finished.

It was stupid. Gerard was just having an off day and Mikey was being an annoying younger sibling about it. People dropped cans. People forgot things in other rooms. A darkness tugged at the corner of his mind. Frank blacked out.

It had been two blissful sleeps since his last night terror. Apparently being unconscious was close enough to sleep for his mind, as the dread that always filled him before one appeared, washing over him now.

It looked more human than usual. Not inside out or leaking organs. But something much darker played in its face.

He’d watched a true crime special late one night. Bored and flicking through the channels, it caught his attention. Some guys had picked up a prostitute downtown and had gotten too handsy with her. Beat her to death- they thought. They’d dumped her body at a construction site in wet cement. But she’d still been alive. She’d died slowly as the concrete hardened around her. Unable to reach out or scream. It took five hours for her to die. Some school kids found her the next day- the side of her face peeking out over the smooth grey plains. 

That was how Frank felt now. Frozen to the spot. His breath came in shallow spurts. Who would find his body?

“We’re gonna have a lot of fun.” The voice seemed familiar and alien all at once. Like the stranger you rode the train next to everyday.

Pale hands closed like a vice grip around his face and fingers tore at his lips. He wanted to scream, to bite, to kick. A tear fell from his eye instead.

The hands wrenched open his jaw as he thrashed his head around. A knee dug into his chest and he could barely breathe. The creature spit into his mouth and he wanted to vomit again. It licked along his stretched out lips with a cold tongue and all Frank could taste were cigarettes.

It changed its grip and held his mouth open with one hand now. Frank panicked as he imagined what the other could be doing. He half expected it to reach through his flesh and pull out his intestines. At least it would be over then, he reasoned.

He could smell his own flesh burning before his eyes processed the image of the glowing cigarette cherry in front of him. He screamed and tears tracked down his face as the creature extinguished its cigarette on Frank’s tongue. 

The loud peels of laughter that followed, still scratched at Frank’s mind as he woke up. The tiles were a cool relief on his head.

_ Fucking night terrors. _

It was just as bad as always. No- no, wait. It was worse. 

Because this time it has Gerard’s face.

____

Frank managed to drag himself back up the attic stairs feeling like shit. His jaw ached and a fake phantom pain throbbed in his mouth. His guts still churned but he had nothing left to throw up. He figured his sour tasting coffee must’ve been off. Feasible- considering his weak stomach and penchant for bad luck.

Upstairs he found only Gerard.

“Where are Mikey and Ray?” His own voice surprised him. It sounded wrecked- like he’d been screaming.

“Downstairs.” Gerard took a step closer. Frank saw an extinguished cigarette in his hand. Odd. Gerard always smoked them to the filter.

“Downstairs doing what?” His body acted of its own volition as he took a step back. He bumped into the door jamb.

“Unconscious, last I checked.” He smiled then and it was too big. Like something else was trying to crack through.

“What do you mean unc-” Before his brain could catch up, a growl cut him off. 

Standing at his feet was a dirt covered Sweet Pea. Fragments of images raced through Frank’s mind. The dirt underneath Gerard’s nails. The freshly overturned earth outside. The mud still in Sweet Pea’s mouth.

For the first time since she’d met him, Sweet Pea growled at Gerard.

They locked eyes. It wasn’t Gerard anymore. It hadn’t been since last night. 

Gerard was possessed. 

Frank ran.

The only place he hadn’t invited Gerard- the remains of the original house.

His bedroom. His bedroom. His bedroom. His bedroom. His bedroom. He had to get to his bedroom. It was safe. 

He strained to hear footsteps but it was impossible to tell over his beating heart. He thought of Ray and Mikey and prayed they were  _ only  _ unconscious. 

Relief flooded him as his hand closed over the brass door knob of his room. He wrenched it open and slammed it behind him. 

His heart was racing and his eyes wild. He didn’t recognize himself in the mirror on his wall. Frank didn’t know what to do. This was the only safe place in the house. Was he just supposed to wait? What would happen to Ray and Mikey if he did? Should he go back out? See if he could find them? What about Ray’s sisters? Would they ever know what happened to him? 

Ray didn’t deserve this. It was all Frank’s fault. He dragged him out to a forest. To a house he invited  _ fucking  _ vampires into. It was one thing to play with your own life but the price of another’s was never yours to bargain with. 

Frank thought of the day they met at the record store. He was new and stole twenty bucks out of the register on his first shift. Ray caught him and made him put it back. He’d never said a word to anyone about it. 

Ray was a good person. Ray was going to die and it was Frank’s fault. 

_ Creeeeeeaaaaakkkkk.  _

Did all old houses have to have such creepy sounding doors? Frank supposed it was better than no warning at all, as Not-Gerard leaned against his doorway.

“I thought we were friends Frankie- why’d you run away?” His voice was syrupy. A pout pulled at his lips and he almost looked like Gerard. Almost. Gerard’s eyes weren’t that inky. His teeth not that sharp. Gerard was afraid of the sun because he thought he might dampen its light. Whatever was standing in front of him looked like it would burn an empire to outshine it.

“You’re not Gerard! Leave him alone!” He stumbled backwards; his hand reaching up to his crucifix necklace before remembering it wasn’t there.

Gerard laughed.

“Did you want me to go play with your friends instead?”

“No- no! Don’t hurt them! Just-” He and Gerard stood on either side of the threshold. Close enough to touch if Frank wanted to. He didn’t.

Frank’s laboured breathing filled the air. Gerard looked amused.

“Frank, how much do you know about this house?”

“Enough to know you can’t get in here motherfucker.” Frank always used to joke he would die because he was being a bitch about something. Well, time to live up to his own standards, he supposed. 

Gerard’s smile would’ve scared off the Cheshire Cat.

He stepped into the room. 

Something icy spread from the top of Frank’s head to his feet. It clawed at his arteries and made ice in his lungs.

“This room was part of the original house,” he took a step forward as Frank scrambled back, his shoulders hitting the wall, “clearly the only part you thought was left. The porch Frankie. The original house had a porch.” He could feel Gerard’s breath on his cheek. 

“Gerard always knew he could come in here. Never told you though- didn’t want to make you uncomfortable. How fucking sweet! How fucking adorable you two are! Huh! You’re gonna die because your little vampire boyfriend was worried about your feelings! Hi-fucking-larious Frank!” His cold hands gripped Frank’s jaw and he was forced to look into too dark eyes. “That first day when your dog got out and you told him to come up onto the porch. Remember that? Your first date?” He licked up the side of Frank’s neck onto his face.

“I invited him in.” His voice didn’t shake. He remembered the first time he got beat up. Older boys in his school saw him wearing black nail polish and ambushed him in the parking lot. He kept a straight face even as punches landed against his stomach. He’d only cried when he got home.

“When you invited him onto the porch you invited him into this room. And he never  _ touched  _ you. Even when he was fucking starving Frankie! He didn't do it. He could've climbed into your bedroom window any time he wanted and ripped out your throat- but he didn't. I think he really  _ loves  _ you.”

Something turned in Frank’s gut. Hearing those words from this creature’s mouth. He wondered if Gerard was in pain. 

He thrashed in its grip until he landed a solid knee to its ribs. 

Cold hands pushed him against the wall and Frank thought he heard wood cracking. A searing pain shot through his ribcage and he could feel sticky blood on the back of his head.

“You’re done with games? Alright, but remember you started this. An eye for an eye Frank.” The demon kissed him on the cheek.

Two teeth pierced his neck.

_ Oh, _ he thought,  _ I’m going to die. _

He hadn’t done much in his 23 years. He’d given his mother more grey hair than a woman of her age should have. He’d stolen gum from a convenience store. He graduated university with a degree he barely remembered getting. He hated his job. He didn’t have many friends. He loved music but lacked the motivation to really learn. He always thought he’d die young. What was wrong with now, then? 

What was wrong, was a deep and long answer. It varied from day to day and burned in the bile of every teenage girl vomiting in the bathroom. Of every boy cutting up his thighs. It boiled down to a simple thing though. 

Those who thrive- survive. And the other 90% of the human population? Well they lived out of spite. Or kindness. Or stubbornness. Or grief for a life they don’t have. Any emotion could keep you running- as long as you had one. The one true sickness was apathy. Love what you want and hate what you want but  _ fucking feel!  _

Frank was angry and depressed and hopeless, and happy and sweet, and cruel and kind, and full and desolate. He was a mess. But he wasn’t apathetic.

Frank didn’t want to die.

Darkness fell like curtains around his eyelashes and the night smiled at him. Would Juliet greet him in the afterlife? Did he deserve her tragedy? Would it feel holy to be dead? Would it be just like his favourite Nirvana song? Could the marigolds at the funeral replace his mother’s son? 

The end was getting closer. A snake moved in the corner of his vision and everything smelled like apples.

His blood leached brain must’ve really hated him because he started to imagine Mikey and Ray were there. But no- then he heard their voices. They sounded hollow and distant, like they were shouting from the other side of a tunnel. But they were  _ real.  _

Mikey had a thick book in his hands and his mouth was twisting around foreign words. Ray was holding the crucifix of Mary from downstairs. The only one Frank had left in the house.

He felt the teeth in his neck, in a blissful moment, pull out. Gerard collapsed to the floor. It was the last thing he saw before the fuzzy purple clouds at the edges of his vision joined together and he passed out.  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Only one left guys! I really appreciate your comments!! <3
> 
> PS I made myself sad writing this so you'd better enjoy it


	6. It's a birthday candle not a funeral pyre

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Gods didn’t love them. The Gods didn’t loathe them. The Gods didn’t know who the fuck they were. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Motherfucking drum roll please! Last chapter! If you have not listened to Father by the Misfits I frikking implore you to before you continue....

It didn’t smell like apples anymore. The overhead light was cold and fluorescent- Frank remembered it being golden. There was nothing poetic about the scene in front of him as he opened his eyes. 

He was in bed.

Gerard was sitting on the floor, asleep, leaning against the bed frame, clutching Frank’s hand. The tear tracks on his face didn’t glow like moonlight; they were dried and crusted. The puffiness under his eyes wasn’t due to the blinding light of holiness his head couldn’t comprehend; it was from clawing at his own eyes in guilt. Red nail marks still adorned his cheeks. His lips were thin and dry; his lip’s bow drooped- like cupid himself had beaten it down. He looked like he was waiting for someone to saint him.

Ray held, white knuckled, onto the cross with Mary on the front as he sat in a chair next to Frank’s bed. He was reading the bible; Frank didn’t know he was religious. His full lips were parted, not like the Red Sea, but so he could breathe better. His nose was still caked in blood from being knocked out. He didn't look at Gerard with anger or apprehension but with pity.

The room itself didn’t smell of despair and angels didn’t cry. All Frank could hear was the distant cough of the radiator. The room smelled like warm meat in a butcher’s shop- and vomit. His own blood had sprayed up the peeling wallpaper; it didn’t look like Pollock or Monet or Van Gogh. It wasn’t the drawings of saints on the floor; it was nail marks from Gerard clawing the ground as the demon inside him was exorcised. All art was tragic but not all tragedy was art. Sometimes things were just sad.

Frank could name every deadly sin like they were cousins at a reunion. He felt at home in basement bars and had more than a few alley scars. He loved the low life. The grease that clung to him wasn't the type that came out in the wash. But he'd never seen it, true evil, until he'd seen the demon that possessed Gerard. After that, broken bottles and bloody knuckles seemed much less romantic.

The Gods didn’t love them. The Gods didn’t loathe them. The Gods didn’t know who the fuck they were. 

His only comfort, besides the cold hand gripping his own, was Sweet Pea curled up on the bed with him. Someone, he presumed Ray, had washed the mud from her. Her breath rattled and Frank couldn't help but think how ironic it was that she had dug herself out of a grave when she was going to die soon anyways. Was that poetic? He wasn’t sure but he hoped not. Death wasn’t romantic. It was just death.

“Ray, are we dead?”

Relief washed over Ray’s face as he looked up. “No, we’re okay,” he laughed but it sounded more like a cough, “why’d you think we were dead? The whole having your blood drained thing?”

“No, it just seems,” he paused, trying to find the right word, “duller.”

“Was it bright before?” Ray had set down his book and leaned forward in his chair. Frank wondered if Ray thought he was insane.

“Bright, in a way. Like headlights right before a car crash or the cherry of your last cigarette when you can’t afford more.” He sat up, ignoring the pain in his ribs and throbbing in his neck.

“I told you to get The Smiths off your Ipod dude. You sound like Morrissey if he was from New Jersey and had a martyr complex.” 

“Oh shut up! You’re Mother Theresa with a nicotine addiction who uses empty beer bottles as room decor.”

The moment felt out of place- like things were normal. Like they were in Frank’s apartment drinking and watching cartoons on TV. Like Frank wasn’t laying in bed, coming back from the brink of death, after Ray and Mikey saved his life.

“You don’t need to worry about it by the way.” Ray watched Frank’s eyes settle on Gerard’s sleeping form.

“Worry about what?”

“Mikey and I found a spell in the attic to keep the two of them from getting possessed. It’s only temporary. We don’t know how long we have though.” 

_A spell._ Ray was a wizard now. Super.

Frank realized then the thought hadn’t even crossed his mind. Gerard always felt safe despite- _well_. He wondered if he should feel guilty. 

He coughed and pain shot through his neck. That was going to take a while to heal apparently.

Ray shifted then, looking uncomfortable. “You never liked endings. Remember how you made me turn off Lord of the Rings ten minutes before the end?” He laughed and it walked the line of hysteria. “I’m happy you’re safe. I thought you’d- well I was just worried for a bit.”

Ray’s words snaked through the fog of Frank's mind, dancing along the spider silk between neurons and hit his epicentre like a torpedo. 

His heart sank.

“What do you mean about endings? Ray?” 

He wouldn’t meet his eyes.

“You should talk to Gerard. I’ll go.” He stood and Frank realized how tired he must’ve been. He didn’t seem as tall and his hair fell in stringy curls over his eyes. Usually it looked like a halo but the twisted strands pulling at his skin resembled a crown of thorns more than anything. It hit Frank then what he had really been through. He’d been knocked unconscious, watched a monster attack his best friend, who he’d assumed to be dead at one point, exorcised a demon, and only had vampires for company the last few hours. His death grip on the cross made a lot more sense now.

“And Ray?”

He hovered at the doorway. “Yeah?”

“Thanks for saving my life.”

“Mikey said he was surprised you held on as long as you did. You saved your own life Frank.” A knowing glance passed between them, heavy with unspoken words and phantom shotgun shells. Frank wondered if Ray would stop taking the razors out of his bathroom cupboard when he came to visit now. 

“I think the exorcism helped.” As much of a smile as either could muster spread across their faces. Their lives were fucking insane. Was this how Joan of Arc felt when God first spoke to her?

The door swung closed and Frank waited to squeeze Gerard’s hand and awaken him. He really did hate endings.

Frank wondered how he was able to look up at him with eyes that heavy. 

“Frank I’m so-”

He leaned down and pressed his lips against Gerard’s. 

They were tragic and he didn’t mind. Gerard smelled like his favourite cigarettes, he listened to him talk about bands he didn’t know, he looked at Frank like he was a piece of art, and he cared- most importantly he cared. They could be Romeo and fucking Juilet and Frank wouldn’t leave him. Gerard knew he was a mess and he cared for him anyways. He took his flaws and his anger and his penchant for suffering and _cared_ _anyways._

Sometimes people were tragic and sometimes love was tragic. This was a case of both.

Gerard pulled away. 

The second between the parting of their lips and Gerard’s explanation Frank knew it all. He felt nauseous. 

“We can’t- not after what I did. I hurt you.” Frank tried to pull him up to the bed but he stayed on the floor.

“No, some crazy fucking demon hurt me and it hurt you too.” Frank looked at the spidery purple veins sprouting from Gerard’s eyes. “It must’ve been terrible.”

Gerard rocked to his feet looking sloping and unsteady. 

“Hurt me? Hurt me! Frank- fuck! I’m dangerous! I almost killed you.”

“What the hell is wrong with you? It wasn’t you, Gerard.”

“You know how this ends Frankie.” He sat down on the end of Frank’s bed and Sweet Pea crawled into his lap. Frank saw a new wave of guilt wash over him. “Mikey and I are dangerous. This spell, it only lasts for a bit, then it could happen again. We can’t risk hurting you or Ray.” He leaned over and pressed his lips to Frank’s cheek. “This is it. We’re never gonna see eachother again.”

Frank wanted to scream and burn empires and throw cherry bombs soaked in gasoline at Heaven’s door. If you burnt Heaven down all that was left was Hell. Maybe he would light that up too. Gunpowder and a lighter from 7/11. The most biblical of ways to go.

But the fight was gone. He was tired and drained- literally. The war had been waged while he was asleep and he knew he’d lost. He couldn’t endanger Ray like that again. He couldn’t stand to see guilt like this on Gerard’s face again. This was it.

“I know.” The words felt heavier than the flies that plagued Elektra. “Will you tell me something though?”

“Anything.” He looked desperate. Like this might lift some of the tar from his soul.

“Do you love me?”

“Frank.”

“Do you?”

It seemed insane and stupid and childish. They’d known each other for a bit more than a week. And maybe it wasn’t love that they felt for each other. Maybe it was just belonging. They were desolate fuck ups. But they weren’t freaks. Not when they were together. They didn't love each other quite yet- but they would. Frank knew he would love Gerard, knew it from the second he saw him that he would love him eventually, but he wanted to hear Gerard say the same. Wanted to hear anything over the ticking clock in the back of his mind.

“When I was possessed I saw it all. I kept trying to get away and he would drag me back. He made me hurt Mikey- hurt Mikey and Ray and you. He made me wish I was never born and hope that I’d die. The things I’ve done would make the devil cry. All those books I burned? The cure was probably in there. And now it's gone forever. In the bathroom- _fuck_ is your mouth okay?” Frank nodded weakly as his tongue burned. _Ah_ , so it had been Gerard who’d poisoned his coffee and wrenched his jaws open. Well Not-Gerard. “I’ve never prayed. But I did when he walked into your bedroom. He kept playing it over and over again in my mind. What he wanted to do to you. He kept showing me how he wanted to push you against the wall until your ribs snapped, how he wanted to scare you, how you wanted to rip out your neck Frank! The things I’ve seen make love unholy.”

It wasn't unholy if God didn't see and God didn't watch over people like them. Frank was sure of it. Gerard wouldn't let himself love Frank? Fine. _Fuck._ Fine. 

They sat in silence for a long time. Frank didn’t have anything left to say.

“We should go downstairs so Mikey and I can say goodbye to you and Ray.”

“Say goodbye to me here and then we’ll go down.”

“Why?”

“This is ours.” Frank shrugged like it was the simplest thing in the world.

“What do you mean?”

“My blood is on the walls, your nail marks are on the floor, our tears are fucking everywhere. This is our own Denver.” 

“Denver?”

“You read Kerouac?”

“Not really.” 

“Well then, it means kiss me. Kiss me one more time because it’s sad.”

“I don’t want you to be sad.”

“You’re twenty three years too late fucker.”

Gerard’s thumb ghosted over the puncture wounds on his neck and he leaned in slowly. Slower than it would take to fill the Grand Canyon with marbles. Slower than an apple rotting in a school bag. Slower than Lucifer’s fall- because it was slow, contrary to popular belief. 

Before their lips pressed together all Frank could see was Gerard. His tear filled eyes and broken smile. They consumed his entire field of vision- and then the taste. He felt his tongue on his own and his lips against his. He could feel their mingled tears coat their joined mouths. 

Was knowing the expiration date better than biting into rotten fruit? Than getting one last mouthful of sweetness from it because you ignored the warnings?

They parted and Aphrodite slew a dagger through her chest.

Gerard wrenched their hands apart and hovered at the doorway, cheeks still slick with tears. “You coming?”

Frank considered refusing. Staying in bed as a protest. But he couldn’t deprive himself of the extra minutes with Gerard. He nodded and followed him down the stairs.

Ray was sitting at the table in the kitchen, empty beer bottles splayed out in front of him. It had been a long night.

“Where’s Mikey?” Gerard sat across from Ray, as far away as possible. He eyed the dried blood on his face.

Frank slumped down next to Ray, who passed him a can. Misery loved company and so did the damned.

“Mikey’s barely said a word since, _you know_. He’s been up in the attic for hours now.”

Gerard eyed the stairs. He had to go get Mikey. To take them away from Ray and Frank before anything else could happen.

The steps creaked with phantom moans of perceived ills. A rail thin vampire with bed head to make Sid Vicious jealous and a leather journal in tow appeared. Mikey spoke.

“I found it.”

“Found what?”

“The cure.”

__________

A trailer. A fucking trailer. 

They lived in a trailer in the woods. Lawn chairs sat outside along empty beer cans and blood tins. The inside was wood paneled and the floral curtains blew in the light breeze coming through the window. Stacks of comic books and overflowing ash trays were the decor of choice. The carpet had a few stray blood stains on it. Frank wondered if it was empty when they first found it.

The only sign anyone actually lived here were the walls. The majority of them were covered in Gerard's drawings. Some were fast sketches, others he'd clearly spent hours on. They varied from comics to still life to the gnarled roots of twisted trees. A lot of them were portraits. Portraits of Mikey and other people they used to know. One stared back with Frank's eyes.

"Uh, we don't really have company so sorry about...." Gerard trailed off awkwardly as he waived to the mess. His cheeks turned pink as Frank ran his fingers over the drawing. Mikey rolled his eyes and started packing a duffel bag.

The drawing was from the first time they'd sat on the porch talking. Frank was wearing an old sweater and had a coffee in his hands. His eyes looked bright and hopeful. He wondered if he really looked like that to Gerard.

"It's beautiful- they're all beautiful. You're crazy talented." He turned to Gerard and gave him a small smile.

"You don't think it's creepy I drew you?"

"Not creepier than cutting open your hand so a vampire would come talk to you." He couldn’t help the blush on his face.

"Can you two stop flirting and start packing?" Mikey shoved the last of his possessions into the bag.

The cure wasn't straightforward; they needed ingredients they'd never heard of and the journal itself still needed to be translated from Latin. It wasn't going to be a quick procedure but it could be done. _It could be done._

They'd decided it was best to stay together. Frank and Ray were jobless, with no real obligations back home, no girlfriends or boyfriends to miss them. Ray had driven back to the city to get his and Frank's things and was on his way back to the house now. Frank had volunteered to go with the Ways to help them pack. He didn't particularly want to pack but he didn't want to be away from Gerard either.

Despite the hope of a cure boiling on the horizon Gerard was too scared. Too scared of hurting Frank again. Too scared of the things he'd already done. Too scared of his own feelings. They'd be friends they decided. Friends with a shit ton of sexual tension who stared at each other’s asses and held hands when they forgot they couldn't- but friends nonetheless. 

Gerard brushed awkwardly past Frank as he grabbed his own bag.

Mikey and Frank helped Gerard carefully peel his drawings from the wall.

They found the ravine Not-Gerard had thrown their tins of blood into and painstakingly gathered them back up.

By the time they'd trekked back through the forest, with Sweet Pea trotting happily on their heels, Ray had returned.

They stood in a disjointed circle in the foyer with bags in their arms like teenagers on their first sleepover. Frank realized they were waiting for him to tell everyone which rooms were which.

Fuck. Why did he have to be in charge?

He figured Gerard and Mikey wouldn't want to be apart. There were two old twin mattresses in the attic. Most of the papers and junk had been cleared out now. All that remained were the mattresses, a lamp (he'd had to scratch off the cross on it), a few stacks of books and a chest of old clothes. He was pretty sure his grandmother's wedding dress was in there. Most importantly it had wall space for Gerard's drawings.

His Grandma's old room was the biggest and had its own bathroom attached. He gave it to Ray. Half out of guilt and half out of self preservation. He knew Ray took annoyingly long showers and frankly when his hair care routine was interrupted he was a bit of a bitch. Plus he'd shared a room with two of his sisters his entire life. He deserved the privacy for once.

Frank kept his room. Despite a thorough scrubbing, soft pink stains clung to his walls. The echoes of his almost ghost rattled around the room. He covered up the nail marks on the floor with a rug. There was something comforting about sleeping in a place you almost died. Something about pretty boys and graves.

As they unpacked he turned up the stereo. The Smiths. Of course.

He put in a Misfits cassette instead and wasn't sure if it was better or worse when Father started playing. 

He ascended the stairs to check on Mikey and Gerard. The attic wasn't exactly spacious but he figured it was better than the trailer.

"Where's Mikey?"

Gerard was knelt on his bed taping up drawings while the other brother was nowhere to be seen.

"Went downstairs to make coffee with Ray I think. Or he got tired of unpacking." Mikey's things were dumped out onto his bare mattress. Comic books, t-shirts and a bottle of margarita mix scattered aimlessly. The sheets and blankets sat, still folded, on the ground. The only sign he'd moved in was a photo of the two brothers when they were younger with their parents, pinned above his bed. They looked happy.

"Yeah, I mean he got so much done. I see why he'd need a break."

Gerard laughed.

"He was the one who found the journal with the cure in it. He's going to be milking that for years. Probably won't ever work again."

"Did he before?"

"Fair point."

Frank had drifted over to Gerard's bed. They sat cross legged facing each other. Neither dared to move any closer, and it felt so painfully like the first night they sat and talked with the threshold dividing them, that Frank's heart ached in a way he didn't know it could.

Gerard saw the sadness in his eyes.

"It could be worse you know. We still get to see each other this way. Isn't it better to be friends than something more tragic?"

"I guess." He pulled his lip ring into his mouth as Gerard's eyes tracked him. "I just- it was so easy."

"What was?"

"Being with you. I didn't have to hide or pretend. You know I'm a mess and you never ran away. And you're so fucking passionate about everything."

"Me? No, you, you're amazing. You have this insanely bright internal light that leaks into everything you do."

"I wish we could've stayed frozen on the porch."

"It was only ever two options: an imagined fantasy or reality. Make believe happiness or something rougher. Something unpredictable and cruel and kind. Anything real can't be contained or directed. But I'd rather have that than some bullshit where the closest I can get to you is in my memories. Even if they're nicer than reality sometimes." Frank moved over and leaned his head on Gerard's shoulder as he continued. "But yeah, I wish we were on the porch sometimes too."

They stayed like that for a long time, sat on the mattress leaning against the wall.

Slowly the moon began to fade from the sky and Frank drew the curtains.

"Reality then?" Gerard held out his hand.

Frank took it and they walked down the stairs. "Reality."

They joined the table where Mikey and Ray were playing a card game with no discernable rules that they both seemed to be losing.

Ray tucked away the cards and the others spread out books and notepads.

Frank flipped on the coffee machine.

"So I guess this is HQ then." Gerard lit a cigarette.

"Let's fucking cure you two." They grinned so hard hope might've cracked out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Found family with punks and vampires! That's what it's alllllllll about babay! Writing this has been so much fun and I have two more fics set in the same universe on the way. I'm @patron-saint on tumblr if you have any Qs. Thank you so much for reading this far and I hope you've enjoyed it. Please leave a comment with any feedback/ideas/things you'd like to see in the sequel as I am just about to start the outline for that. <3

**Author's Note:**

> My tumblr is @patron-saint if you have any questions or want to interact <3 
> 
> PS pls for the love of all that is holy leave a comment


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